Broken Age: Book 1: Whispers
by YingYang Manga Dragon
Summary: A fan written sequel to the series Broken Sky by Chris Wooding. Two years after the Intergration War, Ryushi finds himself returning to The Dominions on a quest for revenge, while Li'ain discovers the past will not leave her. Revised and Re-editted.
1. Introduction

I'm sorry to have to write this. This is an update for the readers of the series. Recently, I've re-uploaded the chapter 1-4, however, I've only just recently found out that because of something to do with the way the site formats the documents, the chapters become a mess. The icon I use to break the scenes is missing and the spaces that I set have also vanished. The result were squashed chapters there were rendered unreadable. Funnily enough, it seemed to be working fine when I previewed the chapters, but something clearly happened.

I'd like to extend an apology to the readers of the fic. I've corrected the problem now, so hopefully this won't be encountered again.

I've also broken the chapters, into smaller sizes. This is because, as someone pointed out to me, most people who read fanfiction tend to enjoy their chapters short and easy. So I'd thought I'd experiment with the idea. Chapters should now be no longer than 4000 words and 2000 at minimum. Please let me know if this make it easier for you to read.


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Note/Disclaimer: I do not own the right to the series that the fic is based on, wish I did. I would to also extend a thank you to the LisaJane, Raihor and Choas Poet for their help. All comments and feedback are welcome.

Broken Age

Book 1

Chapter 1

It was raining again.

That was something he'd noticed about this part of the world; it always seemed to rain, regardless of the season. But then for the last month no other weather could have been more appropriate.

The man stood before the grave, unmoving as the steady downpour continued to soak his heavy leather coat; plastering his thick blond-hair to his solemn face.

He didn't flinch as the cold raindrops ran over his numb skin, being only vaguely aware of the icy touch.

All his thoughts, all his attention, drifted around her.

His blue eyes closed as her face flickered in his mind - her orange-gold hair, her warm, olive-green eyes and those firm full lips. That face smiled at him, showing the love and vitality of her personality. But slowly the image darkened, slowly fading, only to then re-emerge.

Those passionate eyes were closed now, the hair was bloodied and matted, and from the corner of her lips, trickled a thin trail of blood.. The once healthy tone of her skin was pale and her body lay still and cold, all the vibrancy of life she'd had now extinguished.

He gripped the sheathed weapon in his hands as an overpowering guilt swept over him. He should have been there, it wasn't like before. He was older now - stronger, wiser; his powers and skills had been honed. He could have done something, he could have saved her.

But he hadn't been here, and as result she was gone. He swallowed and opening his eyes, turned his head to the overcast sky.

The heavy raindrops were receding to a drizzle as the thick clouds began to break, allowing the feeble rays of the sun to poke through the grey. But he drew no comfort from the natural display.

She was gone...

"I'm sorry…" he whispered. "I'm so sorry…."

From behind he heard the approach of heavy boots, though he made no indication that he had – he already knew who it was. A large man stepped passed him, his sad brown eyes catching his.  
Oiron was a Dominion-born man with a neatly kept forked beard, finely attended black hair and more than his share of belly. In his muscular arms he delicately cradled a selection of fresh flowers.

Despite his mood, the mourning man couldn't help but smile faintly as he saw the various species and colours.

Picking wild flowers was probably the only really feminine thing he'd seen her do. She seemed to find a simple joy in it... almost as if it were a true symbol of peace for her. He was glad to see the large blossom known as Kragen's heart; they had been her favourite. Their petals were a bright orange, lined with deep crimson and sprinkled with drops of cooling black.

They were named after the native creatures of the new land, and he remembered when he had first picked one and given it to her. He felt an uncomfortable stir of emotions come from the once happy memory.

In silence, he watched as the peaceful man knelt, set the flowers down on the grave and then bowed his head, the tips of his fingers pressed to his forehead in a gesture of respect.

After a few minutes, Oiron slowly rose and turned to the brooding man. For the briefest of moments, he seemed completely lost for words.

"I'm truly sorry, Ryushi," he said, lowering his gaze, unable to look him in the eyes. "I wish…."

Ryushi tightened his grip on the sheathed katana and sighed, guessing the man's thoughts. "There was nothing you could have done…"

Oiron raised his head and looked into his friend's grieving eyes.

He had known Ryushi for just over two years, and in that time he had learnt much about the other. It had been after the Integration War that Oiron had decided to depart The Dominions, hoping he'd be able to leave the bitter memories of home behind and start a new life. It was in the port town of Yulia, that he found such an opportunity, manifesting in the form of the exploration ship Banto.

It had been an easy decision to make. Having once bred wyverns, and holding a great affection for the creatures, Oiron had believed he might be able to start a new business. Not to mention he'd also held a private intrigue for what lay beyond Deep Water.

The rumours that populated the taverns and bars weaved elaborate stories of rich lands, filled with all manner of resources and materials; just waiting for men with the ambition to use them. Not that Oiron ever really considered himself to be ambitious. Most of what had guided him was a desire to leave. Gathering together his meagre worldly possessions, he had approached an old, gruff captain by the name of Ayon, and offered his services in exchange for a place on the crew.

After some hard negotiation, over a mug of warm ale, Ayon had agreed, and Oiron, along with many others, had set sail into the unknown. It was on board the vessel that the breeder had met Ryushi.

Oiron had actually spied the young man before they had set sail, noticing his wyvern. He had tried to give a proper introduction, but with his work shifts, and other such distraction, he'd never had the chance. That was until a meeting within the ship's hull.

At the time the Oiron had been tending to his own wyvern, an old Bull by the name of Tragus, when the young man had brought Araciel down. The two had exchanged polite greetings that had soon turned into light conversation. Oiron had admired the young wyvern, noting its strength, intelligence, as well as the obvious love the beast bore for its bonding-partner. Ryushi had returned the compliments and swiftly the two became friends.

For most of the voyage, when they weren't fulfilling their duties to the captain, the pair would spend hours discussing the magnificent animals, exchanging stories about their times on their respective studs. Through this, Oiron had learnt two interesting points. One, Ryushi had been the son of Banto, the owner of Osaka stud, before he's untimely death at the hands of Macaan. And two, Ryushi's desire to start his own wyvern stud; partly to honour his father.

Half jokingly, Oiron had suggested that they become partners, though he doubted Ryushi would be interested. However, to his delight, the blond-haired man seemed to have the same idea. It was through this newly created partnership that Oiron had first met Calica.

He paused in the midst of his reflections and gave a small smile to the memory; it was an introduction he remembered so well. At the time he and Ryushi had been discussing suitable conditions for healthier males, over a bottle of particularly rich wine, when the seer had burst in.

She had been irate with her lover for forgetting something, and had proceeded to yell at him while he had tried to calm her down. When this had been achieved, after many apologies and promises, Ryushi had conducted a formal introduction.

A wave of affection filled Orion as he recalled the look of embarrassment on her beautiful face. She had quickly apologised and tried to compose herself; however, he had merely chuckled and told her "there was no need for such gestures" before inviting her to join them.

Over time, he had learnt more about the pair - their pasts and their plans for the new lands that they were hoping to find. With a greedy ear, he had listened in silent awe to their stories; heard about the vital roles the two had played against the tyrant King. In his eyes, they were true heroes – a compliment, he would seldom use, but one he meant with the upmost sincerity.

Throughout his life, Oiron had never considered himself a boastful man. But, if he were to allow himself one note of praise, it was that he considered himself an excellent judge of character, and he held a particular admiration for Ryushi. Kind, thoughtful, and noble, the young man seemed to embody all of man's best qualities; and everything the breeder wished he could have been in the years of his youth. He often said so to Ryushi, much the blond man's embarrassment.

But recently, Ryushi had changed.

Oiron repressed the tears that were beginning to prickle the corner of his eyes. Even now he could see Calica lying peacefully within the open coffin, her face, the face that had smile so brilliantly, laughed so wonderfully and infectiously, pale, eyes closed, body still.

In the weeks that followed her death, the young man that Oiron admired had become a grief-stricken shadow, spending long hours in front of her grave, mourning the tragic loss and blaming himself. There had been a heavy sense of guilt weighing on his conscience, robbing him of sleep and rational thought. However, as time passed, Oiron had noticed a morbid change come over his friend, one that sent ripples of fear through him. Ryushi's sorrow and anguish had been replaced by an emotion that the large man didn't believe the swordsman could possess: hatred... pure, potent, consuming hatred.

The dark change had come when Ryushi had learnt that Calica's death had been murder.

According to Delkra, a fisherman from the port town Koda, Somebody had been in the local tavern asking for Calica, and for Ryushi, two days prior to her death. Oiron felt the wet touch of tears on his wrinkled cheeks. It was a horrific thought, he had never been able to comprehend murder, never been able to understand how someone could take a life so easily without regret or remorse.

But, there wasn't any definite proof. And even if it had been murder, that didn't justify what Ryushi wanted to do. He wanted revenge; he wanted to kill whoever had done this.

A chill ran through Oiron as he briefly looked at the silent man opposite him. It didn't suit Ryushi to be governed by such a corrupt thing. He was a man of honour, a man whose very word was his bond. But the anger he felt at his lover's death was manipulating that, allowing him to use his code as a means to excuse itself.

The breeder suddenly shook his head, realising how long he'd been silent for. "I take it you haven't changed your mind?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Ryushi released his tightened hold on the weapon and slung it over his shoulder. "No, I haven't," he said. "I'll get them for what they've done."

"Do you know where to go?"

Ryushi nodded, and Oiron tried desperately to look for another reason.

"What of the stud?"

At the suddenly uncomfortable look on the other's face, Oiron thought he might have done it, finally piercing the blackness that shrouded his friend. But the uncertain emotion swiftly passed, and the hardness in Ryushi's face returned.

"I want you to have it…" he said softly. "If you still want it, I mean..."  
The bearded man offered a sad smile. "How about I just look after it? I'll be waiting for your return, partner."

But at Ryushi's resulting silence, and with sorrow weighing on his own heart, Oiron realised that there was nothing he could say to change his friend's mind.

The swordsman turned to leave, but Oiron quickly touched his shoulder.

"Ryushi, please... I know there are no words I can offer you for comfort, but promise me something." He waited, then, seeing no reply, continued. "Please don't lose yourself in this anger, it would be a tragedy beyond any belief… and Calica would never forgive you."

The large man felt some comfort at the fleeting expression passing the devastated man's features: Ryushi had been moved by his words, and that was all Oiron could do for him.

The two friends embraced, before the blond man turned and silently approached Araciel, who bowed his great, scaled head, sensing his bonding-partner's pain. Silently, the breeder watched as Ryushi mounted the winged creature and, casting one last look at the grave, rose to the sky.


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Do not own the original character. I do, however, own the OCs

Chapter 2

* * *

The smoke in the tavern was thickly hung, its perfumed aroma mixing with the dry, pungent, musky tang of alcohol and the warm uplifting scent of freshly prepared food and spices.

In one of the more private corners of the large room, located just behind the staircase that led to the second floor, Kim, captain of the trader's ship Narrin, sat nursing a large mug of warm ale. His keen grey eyes roamed around the room as he absorbed the sights, sounds and intoxicating smells.

He was a man of simple pleasures, but not of a simple mind. Having only returned to the new land a week ago, the young captain was enjoying having his feet back on dry, solid ground. For a moment, he closed his eyes and listened to the pleasant hum of the villagers' conversation, their voices blending with the light music from a small band, playing a melodic tune with a mix of Kirin and Dominion instruments.

Perhaps he should have become a farmer, being one with earth and soil, planting crops and watching them grow. He could spend more time with the finer people; make coming to the tavern a routine.

Emitting a contented sigh, Kim opened his eyes and shifted his lean form until he was more comfortable.

No, he would grow bored and then long for the fresh breeze of the ocean air and the aerial displays of white gulls. Besides, if he were a farmer, where would the enjoyment of returning to a place like this be?

He indulged a fond smile as he looked over the tavern again.

As an unwritten rule of principal, Kim didn't like to be too sentimental, but there was something about Koda that he truly loved. Despite having only been created two years ago, when the ships had first discovered the new lands, Koda had grown into one of the finest examples of Parakka's victory against King Macaan.

The reason as to why, was quite simple in his opinion: the port town's population was a wonderful combination of both Kirin and Dominion folk, coexisting in harmony.

Kim had never been one to be influenced by ignorance - even when he'd been living in the port town of Yuila. He had never believed the stories of the Kirins and could never fathom the deep distrust a lot his friends had held for them.

But in Koda, there was no such petty animosity and he drew great comfort from that.

The tavern, comically known as "The Prancing Cococo", served as an excellent example of Kim's belief. Though built around the traditional Dominions designs; the interior decorations embraced both cultures. Elegant silk drapes cascaded over the ornate, chest-high banisters of the second level; adding flushes of colour to the dark wooden walls.

Pictures of various creatures and landscapes covered any space that was free, while the large, black marble fireplace filled the room with a friendly warmth, as its flames flickered and roared behind the black iron grate.

In the corners of the room, people reclined and smoked on large pillows in a multitude of colours, laughing and exchanging stories, their voices adding to the inviting atmosphere that the captain knew and loved. Kim stretched and reclined further into his comforts of his thick armchair. Oh yes, it was definitely good to be back.

Presently he spied a young Kirin girl by the name of Ayn, who was chatting animatedly with some men, occasionally dropping the odd flirtatious gesture by running her petite hand through her long white hair.

As if she sensed Kim's gaze, she turned, saw him and shot him a warm smile. Excusing herself from her present company, she made her way to join him; making sure, he noted, to sway her hips in an inviting manner. Affection touched Kim as she came to the edge of the table with that playful smile on her lips; Ayn was ever the flirt.

"Heyo, long time no see," she greeted cheerfully, pulling the empty chair opposite him. "Just got back?"

"Nah," Kim said, waving his hand. "I've been back for about a week."  
Ayn raised an eyebrow to him, in mock suspicion. "Oh, have you been hiding from me?"

Kim laughed. "Of course not, I've just been sleeping a lot. When I'm not doing that I'm busy, really busy."

"Oh?" The Kirin asked, genuinely interested. "Business been good?"

"It's been mad," he conceded. "I don't know what's been going on, but something big seems to be happening in the main lands."

"Any idea what it is? The farmers had been telling me about the exports of their crops increasing."

Kim nodded. "Yeah, I know, that was my last shipment." He shrugged. "I don't know much else, though; I don't tend to stray from Yuila. But…"

"Go on."

The captain scratched the back of his neck. "There were quite a few guards there; I've never actually seen that many before. I think they were looking for people, stowaways perhaps." He waved a dismissive hand. "I don't know - I'm just glad to be back here to be honest with you. Finer company," he raised his mug to her.

Ayn returned the smile. "Unfortunately I can't mirror your gesture. I appear to be without a drink," she sighed dramatically. "If only someone could change that..."

Kim chuckled. "Then allow me," he said, catching a passing waiter and placing an order for some fresh drinks. Turning back, he matched the now brilliant smile that spread on her lush lips. Oh yes, ever the flirt, he thought fondly.

* * *

The warmth of Koda's main tavern swept over Ryushi as he entered, sending a surprisingly pleasant jolt up his back. The rain had long since stopped, but the sudden shift in temperature seemed to pull him from his numbness.

Pausing for a moment, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the tavern's large entertaining room, before looking over the familiar faces, his mind filling with the warm and tempting aromas that floated in the tavern's air.

He had left Araciel in the stables and, after learning what he needed from one of the workers there, had proceeded to make his way to the building, exchanging only the briefest of greetings with those who recognised him. Thankfully, many of the residents of the small town seemed to sense his mood and had left him to his business.

Quickly, Ryushi located the man he was looking for and began to make his way towards him.

Kim looked up from his drink as he heard the footsteps come closer.  
Rising from his chair, he offered a good-natured smile to the blond man. "Ryushi! How are you?" The swordsman gave a light nod and turned to the sitting Kirin; ignoring the surprised expression on the captain's face.

"I'm sorry, Ayn, but I need to speak to Kim alone… would you mind?"

Ayn shook her head and Kim could see sympathy in her cream coloured eyes as she rose. "Of course not, I'll see you later." She paused briefly. "I'm truly sorry for your loss."

The men watched her leave, before Ryushi took the now vacant seat. The captain waited for him to begin, but the swordsman seemed lost in his thoughts as he stared into his folded hands.

"What's wrong?" Kim asked, leaning forward. "You look troubled."

Ryushi gave a humourless smile. "I heard you've just got back, you okay?"

"Er, yeah, I'm fine," the captain replied, somewhat confused by his friend's tone; it had been a long time since he'd seen Ryushi brooding. "Are you okay? What's happened?"

Ryushi heaved a deep sigh. "I'm sorry to ask this of you but… I need you to take me to The Dominions."

Taking his drink, Kim sipped it thoughtfully. "You need some more supplies for the stud?"

"No," Ryushi replied, lowering his head into his hands. "Kim... Calica's dead."

The captain's glass fell from his hand as he stared at his friend.

For awhile, neither spoke as Kim ran a shaking hand through his short black hair, his mind trying to grasp the monstrous weight of what had just been said. "Dead…" he repeated slowly, his tone incredulous. "How… what happened? If this is a joke-"

"It's no joke," Ryushi whispered coldly as he raised his face from his hands. "She was murdered, by someone from The Dominions." He met the captain's stunned gaze with hard eyes. "A reliable source has told me that they are back in The Dominions, and I... I want them, Kim."

Kim swallowed silently. Ryushi's voice was filled with a deadly venom, and it held a cold certainty that Kim didn't think had been possible.

He shivered as a sobering fear entered him. This wasn't like Ryushi. "When do you want to leave?" he asked.

"When can we go?"

"Tomorrow, at dawn, I'll begin the preparations now." The captain rose from the table. "You'll be bringing Araciel, right?" - The swordsman nodded -"Alright, you can count on me. First light - I'll be in the western docks. We'll go the second you come." He paused, and then added tentatively.

"But maybe first, you should get some sleep. You look as if you could use it..."

Ryushi sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah… thanks Kim, I'm sorry to do this to you."

The captain waved his hand. "It's no problem mate… I'm really sorry..."

* * *

Once outside, Kim felt a sudden weakness take him. Resting his hands against the inn's wall he tried to steady himself as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. Calica was dead... she was dead! The young man felt the tears begin to gather.

Murdered! His hands clenched as his mind tried to seek answers to many the questions that flooded him. How? Why? Why her? It didn't make sense to him. Had she wronged someone? Was it a sympathiser of Macaan's, or had it merely been a case of misinformation?

Kim felt sick. There had been no sin in that girl...

Wiping the premature tears he began to briskly walk towards the docks, ignoring the greetings given as he passed by; his mind too preoccupied to give them any thought... and that was the same for his grief. He'd mourn the seer's passing later, but right now there was only one thing that dominated his thoughts and attention.

And that was Ryushi, or, to be more precise, that cold, determined face.

Kim felt the chilly drops of fear forming on his brow. He had never imagined that somebody like Ryushi could be so… he felt another shiver sweep over him as he remembered those eyes. The usual hue of blue that shimmered with nobility was gone and in its place was... Kim froze with the realisation.

He had always considered himself well travelled and had experienced more in his life than most people dared to brag about.

But he had never seen eyes like that. They held such a potent hatred and carried such a deadly single-minded intent.  
Back in Yulia, there was saying for it, 'the eyes of the hunter', but that title didn't do Ryushi's eyes justice.

Kim began to walk again.

No... That wasn't the sole thing about them... there was something else, something more in those usually warm blue irises… shame?

No, Ryushi was carrying more than just the desire for revenge; he was carrying a crippling guilt. It was fuelling him, gnawing at him, driving him on.

Kim's pace increased as he moved through the dark cobbled-stone streets.

Was Ryushi blaming himself for the death? No, that was partly it… but there was another reason, one the captain couldn't place.

He didn't know why, but he suddenly remembered what his father had once told him about men like Ryushi and the old code that swordsman sometimes used to define themselves.

"Their honour is their bind and their creed. They are noble and strong willed... but when they lose something precious to them, their values dissolve, and they become little better than demons."

Kim swallowed and moved furthered into the gathering dark. He hoped that wasn't true.

He really hoped that wasn't true.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

Surrounded by wind, the fire smouldered as the last remnants of the warm flames perished in the twilight of Kirin Taq. The lone traveller shivered slightly and drew her thick cloak closer around her slender form, before throwing more dead wood on the fire, in a bid to generate some warmth.

She had been hoping that by making camp in the small rocky outcrop she'd gain some shelter from the biting wind. But this sadly had been a miscalculation and shivers continue to run up her spine; as if to mock her.

Not too far from where she sat, her two pakpaks grazed leisurely at the tuffs of grass, occasionally raising their heads to survey the surrounding landscape. Before them, and their owner, the vast plains stretched out, coloured violet by the dim light emitted from the eclipsed sun. And with them came an odd stirring in her mind.

She paused.

It was strange; something was drawing her here, some kind of force. Intuition? Perhaps. She couldn't really say, but for the last year, she often found herself travelling to regions in The Dominions on impulse rather than through any logical, formulated thinking.

Now those instincts had led her here, back to Kirin Taq.

Casting her hood back, Li'ain lifted her eyes to the dimly lit sky of her former kingdom.

It was amazing how much her life had changed in the course of two years, she had only now returned to the lands that she'd once terrorised. She allowed herself a small smile of reflection.

It still unnerved her to even think about it - to think that only three years ago she'd been the Princess Aurin; a beautiful, cold, and callous creature that saw these lands bestowed to her by her estranged father as nothing more than a mere trinket.

Li'ain shook her head and allowed the feelings to pass. That was all in the past and she was wiser now, more aware, and more in tune. She had changed... she'd changed….

Under the warmth of her cloak, she drew her knees to her body as she gazed deeper into the reanimated flames.

Change, it was a word she'd found herself contemplating recently. So many things had changed since adopting this new life; taking and wearing the skin of Li'ain had allowed her to fulfil her desires for exploration.

Life as a drifter and wander had certainly been humbling and she had learnt a lot in her travels, gaining new insights for both good and bad... but there was something in her past that lingered with her. It was something she'd found herself thinking more and more about.

The former princess closed her pale blue eyes as the image of his handsome face flickered in her mind.

Ryushi… a whisper of a smile touched her face as she remembered The Dominion man. She wondered how much he had changed since they last saw each other, how much more he'd learnt. For a moment she allowed her mind to drift back to those cycles in Fane Aracq, and then allowed a faint laugh to escape her.

She remembered their talks together, when they had traded questions for questions, discussing and speculating on a multitude of topics. The sharp sarcastic banter they had exchanged, his open defiance of her, the lack of fear, and… his kiss.

Li'ain sighed and slowly slipped deeper into her thoughts. She had tried to forget about him and move on, but these two years had also taught her that she simply couldn't. Ryushi had played far too large a role in her life, giving her the freedom that she was enjoying, that had enriched her.

There had been a time when she thought she was over him, when she'd first begun her own adventure with Whist and Blink. The excitement had been a good remedy and an excellent distraction from her flimsy heart. And, as time went on, she had felt a slight attraction to the former Os Dakar prisoner.

There had been a certain rough charm to him that she'd found somewhat alluring, though she'd never admit it. But the murmurs of feeling she'd had soon evaporated. She had discovered that, while Whist could be excellent and useful company, he had a deplorable personality, and a rift had begun to open in their partnership.

It had predominantly been his conceited attitude that had been one of the major problems, especially when it came to women.

Whenever they had entered a town or city, he would always head off to look for 'company', as he put it; which usually entailed a cheap dusk-girl to spend the night with.

Li'ain wrinkled her nose at the thought.

Whist's ideas of fun were… different to hers. But then, as she'd learnt, they were both completely different people, having been raised in different environments and exposed to different ideologies.

Childishly romantic as it was, she had wanted to see and learn more about the world she'd been sheltered from for so long. He, on the other hand, had wanted to submerge himself in pleasure and finally 'live life' as he put it.

At the beginning, she had sympathised with him, understanding that he wanted to lose himself in excess to heal his memories of Os Dakar. So she had tolerated him and, to his credit, she had learnt a lot from him.

But in the time they spend together, Li'ain found herself coming to an obvious realisation; one that was perhaps embarrassing to admit.

Whist was not Ryushi. He lacked too much that swordsman owned – the quality of character, honour and, above all, an honest heart.  
The former princess opened her eyes.

That was the other major problem; Whist could never be, as her old courters and advisers used to say, respectable. He was a liar, a cheater and a rogue. And while she conceded that wasn't entirely his fault and even understood it was all he knew, she wasn't stupid enough to allow those transparent excuses to blind her judgement; Whist, despite his ego, was not clever enough to outwit her. She also got the impression that she made him nervous, which she'd used to her advantage.

Besides, it wasn't as if she hadn't attempted to save their partnership.

In the beginning, when she'd made her suggestions, Whist seemed to take her observations to heart, and very subtly she began to morph him into something far more useful and appealing. However, her success didn't last long. Whist seemed to catch on to what she was trying to do, quicker than she would have liked, or even given him credit for. In an act of defiance he had swiftly returned to his old habits, and when it was obvious that he had no intention of ever changing, Li'ain's patience had finally broke.

The former princess threw some more dead wood on the fire, rekindling the flame. She knew what she'd been trying to do, and felt a stir of embarrassment when she'd thought about it. It had been pure folly on her part. The simple fact was, Whist was not, and never would be or could be, Ryushi. Whist was a cold, indifferent, selfish individual who cared very little for anyone but himself. Any kindness or affection he showed always had an ulterior motive behind it.

Li'ain felt an unpleasant feeling settle over her.

He was everything she had been when she was Aurin. It was a point that he had made coldly to her before they parted ways, and though she had tried to ignore it and convince herself he was wrong, she knew he was right.

Still, angry as she was, she had to give him some credit. Even when drunk, he was never stupid enough to offer her the 'good time'. Li'ain felt a touch of nausea at the thought. No, she had no regrets, Whist had served his purpose and she had no more use for him.

Sighing, she dismissed the unpleasant memory.

After their frosty goodbyes, she had continued her exploration of The Dominions, trying to engage with the various cultures and gain new experiences. These interactions had gone, reasonably well, but there was still a lot to learn. Corm, Jedda and Whist had been instrument in helping her integrate with the walks of life she'd hidden from for so long. But oddly, she found herself shying away.

It was completely different form of conduct. She felt a pang of irritation with herself, but even then she still found it difficult. And even when she was met with success, there had been something that had felt very hollow about it, and she'd soon found herself feelings a sense of loneliness.

It had been after a restless night that she had decided to journey south again and, as if by fate, had been reunited with Jedda and Kia.

For the following year, she'd travelled through the desert with them, hearing her friends' tales. It was in this time that Li'ain's thoughts returned to Ryushi. She and Kia had often talked about him, and at night she found herself wondering about him, wonder how he was fairing… wonder if he was happy? Had the ship he'd left on found anything? Was he even alive?

She smiled slightly as her thoughts continued to drift around him, pushing away all others.

No, Ryushi had been one of a kind, and, no matter how much the proud part of her tried to deny it, she missed him... she missed him a great deal. Seeing Jedda and Kia together had reawakened her own feelings for The Dominion man, and over the last year they had been rapidly growing again.

Li'ain wrapped her slender arms around her body as the painful emotions of regret and loss stung her, swiftly followed by a consuming yearning. She remembered their parting, when she had claimed she wouldn't be second best. She had tried to make the choice for him, for both of them.

Her faint smile saddened, as she felt the dampness of tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She knew now that there was no reason why they couldn't have travelled together, why they couldn't have explored and found adventure.

But her pride wouldn't have allowed it... and that fact stung in a way she wouldn't dare admit.

"You stupid girl," she whispered, feeling a stir of anger at the tears that had begun to run down her pale cheeks. "You stupid, stupid girl…."


	5. Chapter 4

As always I'd like to take a moment to extend my thanks to usual group of resoundingly awesome people, Lisa Jane, Raihor and Chaos Poetic for taking the time to proof read the work, for providing me with their valuable opinions and possessing the truly remarkable ability to tolerate my bullshit.

Disclaimer: don't own Broken Sky, fan work – you all know the drill. Please enjoy.

Chapter 4

* * *

Li'ain sighed and lightly rotated her weary shoulders from under her heavy grey traveller's cloak as she led her two mounts into the small town. She couldn't help but feel some relief at the idea of being able to rest in a proper bed, rather than the makeshift bunk she'd been forced to use for the last few cycles. Sleep, something she'd recently learnt to consider a luxury, had been eluding her and she was feeling the worse for it. Vivid dreams had been plaguing her and robbing her of rest.

She paused.

No, not just dreams... but memories as well, each weaving into the other in a cryptic haze that she couldn't decipher. Sometimes she'd dreamt about her past and the evil that haunted it, and other times they would drift to... The former princess felt a stir of frustration rise within, but quickly quelled it. There was no point in getting worked up over things beyond her control. Her subconscious would weave what it wanted, and she wasn't arrogant enough to try to stop it. Besides, all she needed was to properly rest tired body and mind, and then she'd be fine. As if spurred on by the thought, she increased her pace.

The town, she was quick to find, wasn't as large as it had first seemed. It was dominated by tall building, factories she decided, which appeared to be constructed from the same black stone that was often used in Kirin architecture. The size of the structures varied considerably; some were long and thin, with what appeared to be large warehouses next to them, whereas others were bulkier and wider, squatting under the shadows of the taller buildings that rose up against the twilight sky. Every edge was smooth and she noticed the familiar curves and arches. Another familiar sight, were the wall mounted wychtorches.

She paused for a moment to watch the flames cast the cool stone and with streaks of reflective white with their flickering dance, holding a private wonderment as to the compound that allow the fire to burn without emitting smoke. However she dismissed the inquisitive thought. Another time, she concluded, right now, she just wanted to sleep.

Leaving the wychtorch, Li'ain observed the building thoughtfully as she moved on under their watchful gaze. While the designs were certainly more refined than she'd seen in The Dominion, they were a far cry from her old home, Fane Aracq. Still, they all bore the exotic traits of the Kirins' culture, along with an elegance and grace she found strangely comforting. Dimly she could hear the rumble of heavy machinery mixing with the dull hum of, what she assumed were furnaces. In her mind there was little doubt that she was in an industrial town.

She stopped.

No, not industrial - manufacturing, that was what she used to call them. This recollection was followed by another stir in her mind, but she dismissed it and pressed on.

The street she was travelling on was thin, cramped, dirty and... empty. She felt a touch of curiosity as her eyes roamed the length of the smooth walkway, but didn't pay it too much attention. Maybe everyone was sleeping? It was hard to tell the exact time.

As she moved under an arch and turned a new corner, her shadow flickering on the black walls, a pungent stench assailed her nostrils. She gagged and coughed, her eyes reflexively squeezing shut. Her pakpaks snorted and jerked violently against their reins; nearly tearing them from her hands. Forgetting her discomfort, Li'ain span on her heels and dug her feet into the earth, using both hands to hold the distressed animals firmly. It didn't take her too long to master her mounts and lead them away; her eyes trying to locate the source of the odour.

She soon found it, though it had been the droning buzz of insects that had caught her attention. As she passed an alley, she spied several large shapes lying in the shadows. The nauseating reek was overpowering and again Li'ain had to steady her pakpaks as they moaned and tried to twists the leather reins from her. From the flickering glow of a nearby wall-mounted torch, she saw the cloud of slender bodied, multi-winged, silver insects as they roared and swarmed over the black shapes, disappearing and reappearing from unseen holes.

Her stomach shuddered at the sudden realisation of what the shapes were. They were the decomposing bodies of Kirins. Her free hand quickly covered her mouth and nose as bile swelled up. Holding her breath, she pulled away from the sickening image and bolted for the alley's exit.

Entering a new street, she released her held breath. Gasping, she pulled her canteen from her mount and unscrewed the lid. Drinking deeply, she tried to work the acrid taste of bile from her mouth.

Why had there been dead bodies?

Swallowing the last mouthful of water, she exhaled slowly, her mind clearing with the simple motion. The initial shock departing from her with each breath, returning her to her usual state of collected composure. It was, she conceded, though grudgingly, one of the advantages of her past upbringing. The ability to master her flimsy emotions and control them through a blended series of mental and physical processes had its uses...

She quickly silenced the exception to the rule, and shifted her thoughts back to the scene in the alley. It was uncertainly unpleasant and not something she'd expected to see.

But, it was, she decided, a question for later. Not now... maybe after she'd rested.

Cupping her gloved hand she poured some water into it before offering it to the each of her pakpak. Once they'd drunk, she screwed the lid back on and returned it to the saddle before turning to observe the new street.

It was significantly different from the one she'd left. For starters it appeared to be clean and refreshingly quiet, as appose to deserted, with only a few of the Kirin inhabitants going about their business.

She spied a young Kirin woman, dressed in a dirty, patch sown shawl.

"Excuse me," Li'ain began, stepping towards her. "I was wondering-"

She never finished, the Kirin looked at her quickly, then, bowing her head and whispering something, moved passed her, her stride just short of a run. Li'ain remained silent as she watched the Kirin's retreating back, her pulse quickening. Why had the Kirin looked at her like that, with eyes so full of... fear, she realised soberly.

That Kirin had been scared - there had been no mistake in that fact.

Her mouth dried as a new thought entered.

Had that Kirin... no, she shook her head, that was impossible. That particular thought was born from a weary mind; there could be many reasons as to why the Kirin had fled. No one knew who she had been, she reminded herself, Aurin was dead...

Exhaling again, she pulled the reins of her mounts and moved on, deciding not to ask for directions.

As she made her way deeper into the folds of the town a new sensation swept over her. She couldn't explain why, but all around her she could feel a suffocating desperation. It seemed to radiate from every corner, as the buildings seemed to grow larger, looming all around her in an oppressive manner. In the twilight she heard drunken calls and everywhere she passed there was no music or any kind of merriment. Squatting in the gutters were ragged clad beggars, who would briefly look at her with imploring eyes before quickly casting their gaze downwards. From dark side alleys she could see more slumped bodies, only this time they were clutching bottles and murmuring.

Unease set into her, but she remained calm and continued. Maybe she was simply in the less wealthy part of the town; "the gutter playgrounds" as Whist had so affectionately called them. No… it wasn't as simple as that, there was something more, something she wasn't seeing. She paused briefly and allowed her gaze to wander.

Soon she noticed that quite a few of the buildings seemed to be abandoned, boarded up with heavy wooden planks. Some also looked as if they'd weathered heavy attacks and, further on, there were a few that had rather crude repair jobs applied to them.

She blinked from under her cloak's hood. While it was true she didn't have much experience of Kirin Taq's lower classes… she'd imagined a manufacturing town would be more "lively" than this. Maybe it was just naivety, but she doubted that this was how the architecture was supposed to look, especially considering how the factories had looked.

What was going on?

First the desolation, then those bodies and now this... emitting a sigh, she pushed the thoughts from her mind as another wave of weariness swept over her.

She'd have to consider it later. Lightly shaking her head, she moved on.

Presently the leering buildings parted and she came to what appeared to be a small market. The crowd was much denser here. In the open circular space stood various merchant stalls with their owners calling to the crowd, trying to sell them the products they stocked. However, many of the gathered Kirins seemed to be trying to barter with the merchants, making a series of offers and counter offers.

From the shadow of her hood, Li'ain felt herself utter a curse when she saw the reason why.

The prices were ludicrous.

Simple items like the large green and red Kino fruit were selling for six times their worth. Books, clothes and other foods were also increased to prices she knew many couldn't possibly afford. Furthermore there wasn't a great variety of stock and most of the items were worn and second hand.

Again she found herself observing her surrounding, wondering if an explanation would appear. It was then her eyes befell a sight that made her blood turn to ice. Hanging from one of the nearby buildings, was a worn sign with faded, but legible, letters.

"The Kitika Inn"

Kitika, she was in Kitika.

She felt a sobering coldness enter her as the memory finally clicked.

For a moment the town around her seem to vanish and she was back in Fane Aracq, back as Princess Aurin. Beside her was the Jachyra, Tatterdemalion, his static metallic voice informing her of the rebels in the small town. She felt her stomach writhing as she remembered issuing the orders for the mass execution, not even sparing a second of thought for the lives she was ending. No flicker of remorse, no ripple of hesitation, just a callous, almost automatic, command.

The former princess closed her eyes and heaved a silent sigh, trying to banish the memory as a consuming guilt seeped into her. In the depths of her mind the words of the healer, Da'al Jakai, rose.

"_Many atonements must be made before this age is done."_

Opening her eyes, she relaxed her tense muscles and exhaled. Strange... it had been a while since she'd heard those words. But as she looked around the market place, she found herself musing on them. Maybe this was the reason why she had returned to Kirin Taq; drawn here to find a way to redeem herself of her past crimes. No. That couldn't be the reason, she'd done her part in the war; she had nothing to feel guilty about.

And yet...

From behind her one of her pakpaks snorted and gave a low murmur, breaking her reflection. Lightly shaking her head, she dismissed the remnants of her previous thought. She was too tired to give it too much attention. When she was rested, then she would consider the possibility. Feeling resolved she was about to press on, but she remained still as her eyes caught the sight of a new source of interest.

In the crowd of Kirins, a group composed of six guards were moving steadily through, shoving anyone not quick enough to get out of their way. Silently the former princess pulled away and, moving to the thick shadows of the buildings, watched them. They were wearing armour she was not familiar with.

The black chest plates were laid out in a muscular pattern that was worn over a full, dark grey body-suit, along with sizable shoulder guard, that were decorated with an insignia of some sort. This same design trait was repeated for the guard's thighs. Completing the suit was a smooth oval black helmet with a cross visor that shimmered a dim yellow. The group carried a selection of weapons; ranging from force halberds to long double edged swords to –

Li'ain's eyes widened as she saw the polished handle and the bow-wings set along a smooth half barrel. Pulse crossbows, some of her own guards had used them and she was more than aware of the devastating force those weapons packed. Few had been made, though the details were vague to recollection.

Holding to the shadows, Li'ain kept still. There was no doubt in her mind that something was wrong, very, very wrong. This was no mere police squad looking to keep order - this was a battalion.

One of the larger guards took the lead and cast his visored gaze around the market place. He seemed to say something because his comrades laughed. Around them the Kirins made no eye contact and tried to stay as far away from the armoured men as possible, without arousing suspicion.

Li'ain retreated further to the safety of the buildings. Yet another piece to this curious puzzle; the armour didn't look Kirin, it looked like a new design of the old Dominions' armour. Thankfully the small force hadn't seemed to have seen her yet. If she was lucky, and quick enough, she'd probably be able to double back and avoid being spotted. She had no desire to be seen by them; not until she had some idea of what was going on. Turning, she began to steadily move away, but suddenly stopped, her eyes falling upon an elderly Kirin.

His robes, once a beautiful silken pink, were tattered and encrusted with dirt, and in his withered hand he held a small fruit. Despite being bent over a gnarled walking stick, he moved with a present speed that seemed impossible for his age. As if sensing her, he turned. It was a move that proved to be his undoing as the large guard suddenly marked him.

"You!" he bellowed pointing to the elderly Kirin. "Where are you going?"

Turning, the Kirin gave a respectful bow. "I was just returning home," he replied in a soft voice.

"Oh? With stolen goods?" the guardsman accused, spying the fruit.

Holding his ground, the Kirin inclined another bow. "I assure you, I've paid for this," he said. "Would you like some?"

A big mistake; striving over, the armoured man paused just before the aged Kirin and then, with a swift motion, drove his armoured fist into the stomach. The Kirin fell to his knees and coughed, the fruit rolling away, now forgotten.

"You've got some nerve," The guard hissed. "Talking to me like that. What's your name?"

"Zi-Lin," the Kirin panted, trying to regain his lost breath. "Do you have a name as well?"

The guard responded with a savage kick. "What did you say filth?" he spat. "Shall I cut you're murderess head here?" he pulled his blade from its scabbard. Zi-Lin's cream eyes widened briefly and then closed as the large man brought the blade's tips to his chin.

"Well!" the guard roared. "Are you going to beg for your worthless life?"

"Why bother?" the Kirin asked softly. "You've taken everything else from us, and if you don't kill me now, you'll kill me later."

The other Kirins, unable to look away from the event, exchanged nervous looks with each other, a wash of conflicting emotions sweeping across their grey-coloured faces. But slowly they turned and ignored the scene before them.

The guard chuckled. "So much for your empowering words," he observed causing the other men to jeer. "You and your kind got everything they deserve for their _treachery_!" He drew the blade back, preparing for downward swipe when –

"If his life is so worthless, then why are you concerning yourself?" The guard paused and turned. A woman was slowly moving towards him, drawing two pakpaks behind her. Her heavy travellers cloak rippled in the breeze, revealing the long, leather riding-boots worn over black weather-beaten trousers. Her walk carried an oddly commanding presents that was... unnerving.

"Who are you?" he asked as she stopped just before him.

"A traveller," came the even reply. "I've just arrived in this town."

"Really?" he stepped forward and made a sweeping motion for her hood; however she sidestepped from his reach.

"Forgive me," she said, offering a polite bow. "But I'm afraid I've been cursed with a disfigurement. I'm rather conscious of it."

The guard laughed. "Indeed? Well with all respect, I need to make sure you're not one of these ashen skinned scum."

The woman paused for a moment. Then, releasing her mount's reins, she removed her glove and extended the exposed hand. The guard observed the faintly tanned skin and nodded; satisfied she was neither Kirin nor half-breed. "Alright – what do you want?"

"For you to leave him alone, he's done nothing wrong."

An odd murmur rose from the other guards, but the leader hushed them with a mere rise of his hand. "Leave him alone? Why would I do that?"

From under the shadow of her hood, Li'ain felt a trickle of sweat begin to form. This was turning increasingly dangerous and without Kia, Jedda, or even Whist here to help her, she was feeling oddly vulnerable.

But, she suppressed it.

She reminded herself that she didn't need them to protect her like some incapable child. She could, and would, handle this; provided she was cautious. Retaining her façade of collected calmness, she parted her cloak and reached in her trouser pocket, producing a small leather sack. If her perceptions about this guard were correct then she should be able to resolve the issue, quickly and effectively. The signs suggested he was such a man, but it was still a huge gamble and one she was surprised she was even taking.

Holding the leather bag out, she gently placed it in his hand. "How about you leave him alone and we forget this ever happened? Have a drink on me – for all your hard work."

The large man paused slowly weighing the purse. "There is quite a bit in here," he said slowly, the other guards were drawing closer now.

"So do we have a deal?" she asked, feeling relieved. Nice and easy, the best way to do things.

The guard looked up and was about to reply, when a commanding voice roared over the crowd.

"We most certainly do not!"

Turning, Li'ain watched as a new figure stormed towards them through the crowd. It was another guard, but the armour was designed differently. It was curved, showing a clear femininity to the black plates. The helm was also different. A long silver tassel was attached to the end, which streamed out behind the new arrival's powerful and menacing stride. Drawing up to them, the female guard turned to the large guardsman Li'ain had been in the process of bribing. Immediately he threw the bag back into the former princess's hands as if it was carrying a fatal infection.

"Er captain!" he sputtered. "I was just-"

"Silence!" the female guard snarled causing the man to cower. "You're a disgrace Arron," she growled with a firm voice. "Return to the base now, I'll deal with you there."

Quickly the large man lumbered away as if he'd just been lashed, but the captain didn't watch him leave. Instead she removed her helm and turned her attention to Li'ain.

The woman, by the former princess's reckoning, seemed to be no more than twenty four winters by Dominion time, though her features were tired and made her look older. Her hair was coloured a shocking white and cut short and neat, with streaks of black and purple. Her pale blue eyes carried the flare of a knowing intelligence and even the plate of her armour couldn't conceal the lean power of the obviously toned body beneath.

The captain brought her hand to her waist, resting it on the belt, as her eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" she asked, pulling the former princess from her observations.

Li'ain paused for a moment as she weighed the situation. This was more complicated then she would have liked, however, as long as she remained cool and civil she should be able to make it through. Again she felt oddly thankful for the years she'd learn to hide her emotions.

"Ly" she said firmly. "My name is Ly."

"Lie?" the women repeated. "Very well, please remove your hood when you are addressing me."

It was not a request, but a command and Li'ain found herself momentarily stunned. She was not used to being talked to in such a manner.

"Em, I have this disfigurement," she tried, "and-"

"I'm sorry, do you think I care?" the captain snapped. "Remove your hood."

Li'ain hesitated for a few seconds, but, realising she had very little choice, slowly complied.

A murmur rose from the gathered spectators. "Well now," the captain smiled. "No disfigurement. Or do you consider your beauty a curse? Or perhaps it was all a _lie_, hmm?"

Li'ain continued to meet the captain's shrewd gaze evenly, though she felt her cheeks flush slightly. She was acutely aware that she held very little power in this interrogation; a position she was not used to. The situation was growing increasingly out of her depth, to the point she found herself dimly wishing Kia or Jedda were here. Frankly, she'd even be thankful for Whist's company.

The captain waved her hand. "Don't dwell too much on it. My name is Vinra, and this," she gestured to the other gathered troops. "Is my current company, though I'm _shamed_ to admit it after **that.**" she spat the last word and the gathered guards flinched. Her lips twisted into a sour expression as she turned to face them. "Forgive me, gentlemen? Why are you here?" she inquired, with evident distain.

"Well... you..." one feebly began, but faltered as the captain's expression hardened.

"Did I give you permission to stay?" Vinra went on softly, her eyes roaming over her men as they stood to attention. "Get back to the base at once and report to Dalgrim! I'm sure he'll love to hear about your little adventure in pocket lining!" They practically fell over themselves following the order, causing Li'ain to repress an amused smile as they marched away, trying to retain the tattered remains of their dignity.

However, the brief enjoyment she'd felt was momentary as Vinra's gaze return to hers. Straightening up, the captain allowed her eyes to study Li'ain. Refusing to be intimidated the former princess stared back, her own blue eyes hardening. Around them, she could feel the collective gaze of the gathered Kirins as they watched the two women. Some shuffled their feet, while others talked in hushed voices, clearly sensing the thick tension.

Vinra's lips thinned into a cold smile. "Those orders apply to all of you," she said, her voice rising to unquestionable command. "This is now an interrogation, one which I wish to conduct here. You are all ordered to leave at once!" her eyes briefly shifted to the old Kirin Li'ain had been in the process of saving. "Not you, however, or you," she added her attention returning to Li'ain.

Li'ain withheld the retort that was on the edge of her tongue, and waited as the Kirin crowd slowly dissolved, their murmurs a dull drone in the background.

When the last had left, Vinra stepped forward, her hand resting on her hilt of her sword.

"Now that they're gone, I want you to tell me the truth," she began. "Lie to me again and I will arrest you. Understand?"

"Clearly." Li'ain replied, with the faintest twitch of a cold smile.

Vinra waited for few seconds. "Why are you here?" she asked.

Allowing a few more seconds to pass, Li'ain exhaled slowly and composed her mind. "I've just arrived from The Dominions. I was hoping to travel Kirin Taq and see more of these beautiful lands." she explained, realising that there was no use in lying here. "I wasn't expecting to encounter your men brutalising an innocent Kirin. Is that your usual protocol?"

Vinra gave a wry smile. "You're in no position to be snarky with me," she said with a firm coldness. "But no, it is not our protocol to brutalise. We do however maintain the law over the Kirins." She paused, her eyes flickering again to the grounded Kirin for a moment. "And as for innocent," she went on. "I'm surprised someone from The Dominions would say something like that. In fact those kinds of words could see you arrested."

"Oh?" Li'ain replied evenly. "And why is that?"

She was surprised by the genuine look of confusion given to her by the captain. "Why?" Vinra repeated with a tone that suggested she'd been asked to solve all of the mysteries of the world. "Surely you must know?"

Feeling a touch of embarrassment, Li'ain quickly pressed on with her recount. "I'm a traveller. I've spend the last year in the deserts with some friends," she explained deliberately using The Dominion's means of keeping time. "I haven't kept up with the news for some time now."

"Ah" Vinra replied with a knowing smile. "Well, that would make sense."

Her mood swiftly changed, the tensed business manner she held, relaxed. "You should have said sooner. We have a small base here in the town. If you come back with me, I'll tell you everything. People of The Dominion are not safe in these parts…" she trailed off slightly as if lost, but it passed and a present resolve set in. "Forgive me, but it might be for the best if you did come with me… these Kirin are known for their taste in women. I'm just concerned for you. You'd be a target for these _savages_."

Li'ain ignored the remark. "I'm flattered. But, I think you'll find I am more than capable of defending myself." She lifted part of her cloak, revealing the sheathed sword that had been concealed.

Vinra smiled. "So I see. Very well, but if you do change your mind then we're located in the north of this place, trust me it's hard to miss." she replaced her helm and turning left. When she was out of sight, Li'ain turned to the old Kirin and offered him her hand. "Are you okay?"

He was momentarily stunned. "Yes" he said slowly taking her hand, "thank you…"

"Are you hurt?"

"A little bruised," he admitted. "But other than that I'm fine… why did you help me?"

Li'ain paused. "Would you have rather I hadn't?"

"No" the Kirin said quickly, seeming to have believe he'd might have offended her. "It's just we're not very popular, as you might have guessed…" he looked around uncomfortably as if worried he was being watched.

Saying nothing, Li'ain began to turn away, but the Kirin's hand gently touched her shoulder.

"Listen, I…" he began, "if you want, I mean I don't know where you are staying, but… you are more than welcome to my home."

Li'ain favoured him a thin smile. "It would save me having to pay for an inn" she said.

In truth, it was exactly what she'd been hoping for, though it hadn't been the reason for her interruption. There was a lot going on here, a lot of questions without answers. Perhaps she'd be able to learn what had happened to her former kingdom through this Kirin. It was worth a chance. Besides, she'd rather hear the story from a source other then corrupted guards, though she doubted the Kirin's accounts would be any more honest. Still, it would save her having to deal with that captain again.

She patted her mounts. "Do you have somewhere for my pakpaks?"

"Yes, I have a small barn they can rest in."

"Then by all means" she said.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

The house was more sizable then Li'ain would have originally believed. It had two levels to its structure and, like most of the architecture in Kirin Taq, was smooth in its craft. Coloured black, the oval exterior made the home look like a large hill, which wove intricately into the surrounding landscape. Next to it was another smaller building, which she guessed was the barn he'd mentioned. Surprisingly it lay just outside the town's border, though the old Kirin had said something about the house once being a farm.

Zi-Lin turned to her, halting her mental observations. "You can take you're pakpaks there." he said, pointing to the smaller building, confirming her previous thoughts. "When you're ready feel free to join me."

When she had finished tending to her mounts, and removing her essentials, she entered the house. The ground level opened up with a large curved hallway that was lined with a few doors leading to other obscure rooms. Climbing in the centre was a carved staircase that appeared to be made from a dark looking wood she'd not encountered before. The whole space was dimly illuminated by four grated-metal oil lamps, whose candle flames flickered and spat, causing shadows to dance on the smooth walls.

Seeming to have heard her, Zi-Lin appeared from a door located to her right and gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry… it's not much."

Li'ain waved a dismissive hand. "It's just fine" she assured as she continued to study the interior. Contrary to what he was probably thinking, she thought it actually looked quite quaint.

The light sound of shuffling feet caught her attention and turning, she looked towards the staircase. Hidden behind the end of the banister, was a small Kirin girl. Zi-Lin saw her as well. "Morqa," he smiled and held his hand out to her. "Come say hello. This kind woman saved me from the guards."

The small girl hesitated for a moment.

"Come on," The old Kirin coaxed. Slowly she emerged from her hiding place and moved towards the two, her hands steadily holding on to the thin banister. She looked no more than eight winters, her dark hair falling loosely around her shoulders. The small blue dress she wore was roughly sewn, seeming be made a many different fabrics of various colours. The light of the lamps, illuminated her youthful face, yet under her eyes were deep bags and Li'ain felt a small stir of pity when she saw that young Kirin was blind. Morqa stopped at the midpoint in the staircase, gave a small bow, then suddenly turned and ran.

Zi-Lin sighed as he watched her leaving. "I'm terribly sorry," he said turning to Li'ain. "But she's very shy."

"It's okay," she said, though her gaze lifted to the second floor. There had been something in that girl's features, which seemed familiar... it seemed as if... "Are you her father?" she inquired, turning to the old Kirin.

"No. But her mother was my daughter." A shadow passed his deeply lined features. "Sadly she was executed, along with her husband."

When the word "executed" left his lips, Li'ain felt the now familiar coldness begin to enter her. "Was it Aurin?" she questioned almost automatically, though her voice remained even.

The aged Kirin regarded her curiously. "No. It had nothing to do with the former Princess. My daughter was killed after the first wave of The Dominions' army came." He turned from her and Li'ain got impression that he didn't wish for the subject to be pressed further.

Pausing before the door he'd appeared from, he turned back and offered a small smile. "Would you like a drink?"

The kitchen was simple but nice. It was sparingly furnished, with a small teardrop table that was surrounded by wicker mats. In the centre of this was an oval black cast fire pit, which burnt a smokeless flame, lighting the room with a warm orange glow; on the walls hung various cooking utensils along with pots and pans. Sipping at her herb tea, Li'ain allowed herself to sink into her thoughts, the weariness she'd felt moments ago now gone. She couldn't help but feel a small wave of relief that she hadn't been responsible for the death of Zi-lin's daughter.

But she didn't linger on this and she swiftly found her thoughts turning to more pressing questions in her mind. Namely, why The Dominions were brutalising the Kirins like this? What had happened? Why were they suffering? After her father had been defeated, she thought that the worlds would be able to coexist in peace; it had looked so promising all those years ago. As if he sensed her thoughts, Zi-lin looked towards her. "I'm amazed," he admitted slowly. "I can't believe you did that… I thought nearly everyone in The Dominions hated us."

Li'ain eyed him from the rim of her cup. "Why it that?" she asked, setting the drink down. "Why are they doing this to you?"

The Kirin peered at her searchingly. "You really don't know what's happened, do you?"  
"No," she admitted, again feeling slightly embarrassed, but refusing to show it. "As I said before, I never stayed long enough in any of the towns or villages I visited to gather news."

Zi-Lin didn't reply to this and instead looked into the depths of his drink. "I suppose you want me to tell you what's happened?"

Li'ain gave a nod and waited.

Closing his aged eyes, Zi-Lin set his own drink down. "It all began with the assassination of The Dominions politician Rayin…." In silence the young woman listened as the Kirin explained everything that had happened, pausing the story to let her ask any questions she may have. Though her manners and features remained impassive throughout the recount, she was shocked by what she was being told. Slowly, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place and she found herself nodding as she put two and two together, the despair she'd felt earlier now making sense, as did the dilapidated state of some of the buildings. At times, Zi-Lin would be vague with the information and would give an explanation that was derived from his own observations and from other accounts, rather than proven fact. When he had finished, she retained her silence as her mind processed the vast amount of information she'd been given. A lot of it seemed too surreal, so many elements factoring together. But there was one part to the tale that confused her. That had been the event known as the _Kyrimpa_ or, to give it its Dominions title, _The Swarming_.

"Of course, despite my earlier comment, not everybody in The Dominion hates us," Zi-Lin explained suddenly. "Vinra is one."

"Vinra?" Li'ain repeated breaking her reflections. "You mean that guard captain?"

"The very same" the Kirin chuckled when he spied the brief flicker of confusion that passed her features. "I know she called us savages and other insults. But I know she's on our side... or at least she is now." Again, Li'ain noticed the turmoil that passed that Kirin's features. There was something else, but she didn't pry. "She is very subtle in the ways she works," Zi-Lin continued. "She's one of the reasons we're not herded and shot. I mean why do you think you weren't arrested?"

Li'ain sipped her drink. It was a thought that had been lingering. She was about to question it further when suddenly they heard the door burst open from the hallway.

"Father!" a voiced called out, "Are you here?"

"Yes Tomcha," Zi-lin replied. "And I have a guest with me." The door to the kitchen opened and through the curved frame a young Kirin stepped in. Like most of the males of his race, Tomcha's hair was coloured black and drawn into a long ponytail. His body was toned, but lean, showing a coiled strength in his limbs. But it was on his face that he bore his most unique physical trait. A long jagged scar ran from the temple to his chin, tearing into the bridge of his nose and slicing through his lips.

Seeing the old Kirin, Tomcha felt to his knees and drew his father into a grateful embrace. "You're safe. I heard what happened from Linqa."

"You fuss too much" Zi-Lin sighed. "But I am fine. Thanks to Ly here"

Tomcha turned to Li'ain and bowed. "Thank you" he breathed. "If you hadn't stopped them…" he trailed off but the former princess waved the rest of the unsaid sentence away.

"You have nothing to thank me for." She said simply, though she felt an odd touch of nervousness settle in her stomach.

Zi-Lin gave a kind smile. "Why not come and join us dear son," he suggested making a motion with his hand. Tomcha smiled and moved to one of the wicker mats around the small table.

For a while, Li'ain listened as Zi-Lin and his son talked. She began to learn more of the hardships that were facing the Kirin's of Kitika and of the lands. The economy was failing and poverty was rising at an alarming rate; the trade between towns and cities was becoming stagnant. Kirin Taq's army had been crushed, with only small pockets of troops trying to put up a resistance; but, they lacked the provisions and weapons to maintain any campaign. Food supplies were also dangerously low, with the occupying Dominion force taking large amounts of the harvests for themselves, leaving many starving. Meanwhile, in towns like Taitai and Chita, the black fever was spreading; claiming more and more lives, yet the occupying battalions turned blinded eyes and often held the vital medication for themselves. It was after Tomcha had told of the young mother who had starved that Zi-Lin heaved deep, tired sigh. "It doesn't get any better does it?" he said, before pausing. "You know makes me wish she was here."

Li'ain paused at the old Kirin's words. "Who?" she asked finding herself oddly intrigued.

Zi-Lin smiled slightly. "You'll think I'm mad…" he said, "but… I mean, Aurin."

The name floated in the air as a stunned silence swept over the room. Unconsciously, Li'ain's grip tightened on her cup. "Aurin…" she repeated, trying to hide the surprise she felt from her voice. "You want Aurin… princess Aurin… back?"

The Kirin sighed. "Yes. And I know what you're thinking. She was a monster, a cruel, soulless creature that would kill without remorse or mercy." He took a long sip of his drink. "I haven't forgotten any of that… but…" he paused for a moment as if unsure of his next sentence.

"I've heard stories." Tomcha suddenly cut in and Zi-Lin seemed grateful. "Apparently there has been tales of a lone female traveller of extraordinary beauty, coming to our suffering towns. They say she'd heal the sick and bring food to the starving. The tales do vary, one says how she protected a child from a Snapper, and another says how she destroyed a Dominion battalion in Kilma. Because of her great power, many believe her to be the Princess."

Li'ain maintained her composure though a part of her wanted to laugh. She had no idea where these stories were coming from but they were quite absurd. Still, it was interesting… "How long ago did these stories begin?" she asked.

Tomcha scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Well I'd heard the tales from Mona quite a few cycles ago… these stories are quite popular in taverns." He shrugged. "But I imagine they have been around for longer than that."

Zin-lin stirred from his silence. "Apparently," he began. "Mothers tell their children fairy tales about her. Stories like, if you've been good she'll come in the night and give you presents. The usual stuff" He gave a small smile before sighing. "I don't doubt they've been embellished to a degree… but if Aurin has returned and has changed for good… then perhaps, we could have our lives back."

"But I thought Aurin was dead" Li'ain said, feeling an uncomfortable stirring, though none of it showed. "How do you know it's not another woman?"

Tomcha shrugged again. "We don't. Remember these are only rumours and tales crafted by the desperate. Nothing wrong with keeping spirits high…" Li'ain remained silent, her mind trying to process what was being said. It seemed impossible... they wanted her back on the throne... they wanted a monarchy back. "But…" she began slowly. "Weren't you worse under Aurin… she killed so many, she was a tyrant."

The scarred Kirin looked at her with a stunned expression, and Li'ain realised she'd touched a raw nerve. "Worse under Aurin... how could anything be worse than this?" he asked gesturing around the room, though she knew he meant the world. "Yes, people were executed and it's true that many were forced into slavery – I haven't forgotten her cruelty. But at the same time, if we didn't break the law, we had nothing to fear. The guards just policed. They didn't kill for the pure sake of it or because of who we were." His voice grew with a rising anger. "At least under Aurin our food wasn't taken; nor was our lands stolen. At least under Aurin our children weren't _butchered_."

"Tomcha..." Zi-Lin said gently, but the young Kirin ignored him, his balled fists slamming on the table as hot tear began to gather in his eyes. "To the south of here there is a small mound... do know what's under there? Our children. When the Dominions army attacked, every child and baby infused with spirit stones was rounded up and slaughtered. Just babies and small children..." he whispered the last sentence before sinking his head into his hands as exhaustion swept over him.

Li'ain remained silent and watched as Zi-Lin placed a comforting hand on his eldest son's shoulder before turning to her. "I don't blame you for your questions regarding Aurin. In truth, it's a doubt we all have… but try to understand this; when we were ruled by the princess, we still had our dignity. We were protected… we had food and we weren't living in such poverty. All we had to do was obey the law. I know it wasn't perfect; in fact it was far from perfect. Many still hate her… but understand it was better then what we have now."

He sighed and ran a tired hand over his worn features. "I was so happy when she was overthrown. I thought we'd be free, I thought things would be so much better. But now, we're worse off… Parakka's government failed… and we've been abandoned."

The silence grew and Li'ain felt her heartbeat increase as exhaustion claimed her again.

Presently she rose. "I'm sorry to have caused you pain." she said softly, though her voice was even, "I'll leave." She made a move for the door, but Zi-Lin stopped her.

"There is no need to apologise for a good question. Don't regret what you've said."

Wiping his tears, Tomcha looked towards her and offered her a weak smile. "Forgive me," he said. "I didn't mean to lose myself like that… please stay. It's the least we could do for you." He inhaled and exhaled deeply as if he were trying to banish the memory. "I'll prepare your bed for you."


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: Don't own Broken Sky, or its character (things would have been very different if I had). However I do own the original of this fic. Thanks to Raihor, LisaJane and Choas Poet. Editors are wanted is anyone is interested. Hope you enjoy. Feedback alway welcomed.

Chapter 6

* * *

"He's this way!"

Hiro cast a fearful glance over his shoulder as he plunged through the crowded streets of New Tusami City, paying little attention to the dirty looks, or verbal curses, thrown his way. Clutching the stolen bread loaf closer to his scrawny form, the small boy doubled his efforts as the heavy footfall of his pursuers grew louder; the clink of their armour chilling his blood. There was no doubt in the orphan's mind that they would kill him - they had been after him for many months now for various petty crimes, including pick pocketing and petty theft. But Hiro knew that was just a convenient excuse, one that could be used to disguise the real reason as to why he was wanted dead. The thought spurred him on, and with refined skill he weaved through the mass of the crowds, hoping to lose the hunters amongst them.

A gloved hand lunged for him, but with a swift, instinctual, move he dodged it and bolted down a nearby alley. A lone beggar looked up; however Hiro ignored him and moved swiftly.

Coming to the crossway, he paused momentarily. Left, right or straight ahead? Right! Hiro dived on – and came to a skidding halt as two guards rounded the corner. With split-second reflexes, he spun around as the arms swept to grab him. With his heart thundering in his chest, and a string of profanities from his lips, Hiro continued to run. He felt a sharp tightness seize his lungs, and the warm flush of heat on his drawn cheeks from the exertion; but he suppressed it pushed on.

Tearing through the left alley, he leaped over fallen metallic bins and surged on, adjusting his movements to the backstreet's layout, ducking and rolling, trying to keep one step ahead. As he passed a street performer, who showed little interest as he played his instrument, Hiro felt the ripples of adrenaline flowed through him; his second breath had finally come.

Making nimble zigzags in the maze of passageways to try and throw the guards, Hiro turned into a new lane, only to come to an abrupt stop. His dark eyes widened as he stared at the indomitable wall that rose against him. He'd taken a wrong path. He turned to double back, but now the tall, intimidating figures of the Guardsmen loomed at the alley's mouth. Trapped, Hiro slowly backed against the wall, his thin frame crouching in the corner as the men slowly advanced on him.

"Got you now, rat," one jeered. "You gave us quite a run."

Hiro said nothing, but his eyes stared at them with cold defiance, his knuckles bleaching as his grip on the bread tightened.

"What's this?" a second one asked with a faintly amused tone. "No lip? No back talking? No swearing? I'm disappointed in you. You usually - hey!"

Hiro sprang, hurling his body into the taunting man. Unbalanced, the surprised guard toppled backwards with a heavy crash. Hiro rolled and made a desperate dive for escape but the fallen guard managed to lash out, his powerful hand gripping the boy's ankle.

With a cry, Hiro fell, pain erupting in his face as he hit the hard dry earth, the impact sending a small cloud of dirt up.

He laid there, sprawled on his front, his mind fogged and disoriented. Dimly the young boy felt strong hands roughly grab his shoulders and haul him to his feet. He coughed, tears pricking the corner of his eyes as the iron taste of blood filled his mouth, mixing with the particles of disturbed dirt. The front of his face throbbed and he could feel a strange dull tingle in his nose. His hand reached for it and then drew back a sharp sting. He realised it was broken. Again he felt the guards' rough hands grab him and yank him to his feet, but their voices were lost in the droning buzz that resonated in his mind as he swayed in their hold.

Through the clouding haze he distinguished a black mass that now stood before him, seeming to have appeared from nowhere. Soon a voice penetrated the consuming noise in his head. "I can't believe I fell for that." It said, causing Hiro to realised that the guard he'd surprised was back. "And to think I'd considered showing you mercy."

The orphan's dazed mind tried to focus, trying to process the words. Mercy? The humourless laugh came unbidden, wheezy and strained though nevertheless hysterical. "You…" he faulted briefly to another fit of laughter. "You… you wouldn't show me mercy…" He coughed and spat some blood. "You hate me and my sister. You… wouldn't - "

One of the guards drove his knee deep into the boy's gut. The guard whom had been addressing him stepped closer. "You and that sub-creature?" he asked quietly.

"Why?" Hiro whispered. "Why is she a sub-creature? Just because she is half Kirin?" he felt a moment of brief strength from the surge of conflicting emotions, piecing the heavy daze on his mind. "Why should that matter? It didn't two years ago." Another kick and Hiro emitted a groan at the taste of more blood.

"Yes," the Guardsman agreed softly, slowly unsheathing his sword. "It didn't matter two years ago… but that was before they tried to destroy us."

The young boy spat as more blood filled his torn mouth. "That's… that's why you want me dead… because of her?"

His legs buckled as another guard kicked the back of his knees, forcing him to the earth. The lead guard stepped before him, his sword resting casually in his hand.

"No, boy," he said simply. "You know your crimes. You have stolen from honest vendors and people and have assaulted Guardsmen. You harbour an enemy to The Dominions' government and to the people to which it protects. You have been warned countless times and you've been given countless chances to change." He paused. "Yet, you continue to disobey the law, and continue to make life miserable for people. As captain of the tenth Shadow Guard of our leader, Syris, and to the Government, I sentence you to immediate death, by the severing of the head from the shoulders."

Hiro remained silent trying to maintain an insolent look on his face; though he couldn't withhold the tears that ran down his dirty bloodied face. Lifting the sword, the Guardsman moved to the boy's side and rested the sharp edge against his neck. Squeezing his eyes shut, Hiro waited for the strike, the image of his younger sister flickering in his mind.

Three... two... one...

The musical note sliced through the air with a deep metallic moan, resonating in his mind and vibrating off the walls. With held breath, Hiro slowly opened his eyes. Though his vision was still slightly blurred, he could see a tall figure approaching him. The man was dressed in a heavy, black, duster coat with a stiff collar turned upwards. His gloved hands were cupped around a small musical instrument, hiding the lower half of his face. From under a large, wide-brim, black hat, his long dark hair was loose, falling around his face and over the collar, obscuring his features further. On his belt hung what appeared to be a plain mask.

The newcomer's walk wasn't powerful, nor was it commanding, but there was an unsettling ease about his stride that seemed to fall in time with his music's slow tempo; as if he were lost in his own world, oblivious to all around him. Coming to a stop just before the boy and the surrounding guards, he drew a last note before casually removing a small box from his pocket and placing the instrument inside. Then he reached for the mask on his belt and, unclipping it, brought it to his hidden face.

There was a brief moment of silence as the newcomer raised his covered head. Now that his vision was clearer, Hiro could see the mask in greater detail. It wasn't coloured white as he had first thought, but was faintly silver. Strangely, it only possessed one eye slit, located on the right. Under this was a long blue line that ran down to the bottom of the mask, as if it were a stream of tears.

He winced as he felt the guards' grip on him tighten. His heart skipped two beats as the masked-man's eye met his gaze. A few tensed second drifted by and then the masked-man stirred to life with a light chuckle. "Well, gentlemen, how was I?" he asked, holding his arms out. "It's a new composition I've been working on."

It took a couple of moments for the surprised guardsmen to collect their thoughts. "That was pretty nice," said a rather bulky individual, his fingers easing their grip on his weapon. "But I think I've heard it before- don't you busk in the main market?"

"Ah!" The masked-man clapped his hands. "A fan, oh how very flattering! Yes, I do play in the main market but I tend not to wear my mask, couldn't play the harp, you understand."

"Then why are you wearing it now?" The question came from the leading guard that had passed Hiro's death sentence. He moved towards the masked-man, the execution blade still in hand.

The masked-man paused. "Isn't it obvious?" he replied, with a light shrug. "I don't wish to be the odd one out. If I recall, Shadow Guardsmen aren't allowed to remove their helmets, correct?" - The guard nodded - "I like that. A bit of mystery is a grand thing and I wish to subscribe to such an idea. Good sirs, would you deny me?"

"In the interest of security, then yes, I would." the guard replied, his fingering noticeably tightening on the sword's hilt. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?" the masked-man seemed to be musing, his voice distant. "Why are any of us here? Quite a question and one I fancy I could not answer. But," he added quickly, "that's not what you mean." He paused briefly. "The answer to your question is very simple; I came to offer you my help."

"Help?" the leader repeated. "Help for what?"

"Oh gentlemen, gentlemen, how dark our times are!" the man cried, his voice rising. "Why trouble yourself with this dirty little urchin? I'm stunned, shocked, and appalled that the good men and women of the guard force have to waste their time with something like this!" He pointed to Hiro and then, swiftly reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a leather pouch and clasped the lead guard's shoulder. "Sir, do not concern yourself with such a dirty creature." He placed the pouch in the armoured hand. "Go have a drink, find some tight female fun. You and your men deserve such rewards for your efforts. You leave this little monster to me; I'll deal with him."

The child watched as the leader paused and examined the small sack in his hand. He seemed every bit as confused by the masked-man's abrupt gesture as Hiro was.

"Why do you want to?" the leader asked softly, looking up to the concealed face of the briber.

Crossing his arms, the masked-man leant against, the alley's wall. "Aren't you satisfied with the reasons I've already given?"

The guard continued to stare at him in silence. After a few more seconds the masked-man sighed and held his hands up in defeat. "Alright! Clearly I've underestimated you."

Shifting his tall body, he gave a small bow. "Please forgive me and allow for me to tell you the truth. This boy once stole from a friend of mine, a flute player by the name of Oriyama." He turned to the bulky guard who had identified him. "Have you heard of him? You seemed rather knowledgeable of musician, he plays in the Spiked Wyvern."

The large guard scratched the back of his head. "Not really," he confessed. "But, I do love music."

"Doesn't everybody?" the masked-man asked. "When word fail us, music forever speak and-"

"Is there a point to this story?" the lead guard cut in sharply. "Or do you plan to bore us with your pretentiousness?"

If the masked-man was offended, he didn't show it, instead he offered another bow. "Terribly sorry, I tend to wander, so many thoughts, it's hard for one to stay focused. Anyway, after that grievous theft, I promised that fine musician that if I ever saw the brat, I'd catch him and kill him myself. But now I can go one better - I can allow my dear friend the honour and pleasure… would you allow me to present such a gift? I mean, you were going to execute him anyway… let me buy the luxury myself. I'll take him to Oriyama and we'll deal with him."

The weight of dread came crashing down on Hiro. His head fell, his chest tightening as nervous beads of sweat formed on his brow. He could sense the tension growing between the masked man and the guardsman's leader. But it meant nothing. Either way… he was going to die.

One... two... three...

"Oh, come on!" one the guards cried to the leader, seeming to have become bored with the play of power between the two men. "Let him deal with the rat while we go have a couple of drinks. He's only a street performer; you'll probably see him again in the market. Besides, without her brother that half-a-freak will die. Never say no, to a kind gesture, right?" The other guards gave a small cheer of agreement.

It was the push that was needed, and with a sigh, the leader nodded and gave a dismissive wave to the fallen boy. "Alright, you can deal with this monster." Hiro's body crumpled to the floor as he was released.

The masked-man tipped his hat to the guards. "Oh don't you worry good sir, I plan to," he moved to where Hiro lay and, dropping to his knees, gripped the back of his neck, causing the orphan to wince as the gloved fingers dug into his skin.

The leader replied with a curt nod and motioned his company away.

Hiro watched them leave, not daring to move, his eyes squeezed shut as he waited for his fate. However, to his surprise, the masked-man sighed. "That was too close for my taste." His hold loosened. "You're very lucky, that I possess quite the silver tongue and just the right level of madness."

Raising his head, Hiro looked uncertainly at the man. "Silver tongue?" he repeated with a croaked, dry voice.

His question was met with a good-natured laugh as the man reached into his coat and brought out a small, metallic, hip flask. "Yes, I flatter myself by saying that I can be quite the serpent," he explained, handing the flask to the confused child. "That, and a marvellous actor and liar; drink up"

Unscrewing the cap, Hiro brought the flask to his lips and drunk deeply, the pure water bringing unspeakable relief to his parched throat.

"Feeling better?" the man asked. "Don't worry about those guards, they're not coming back, so no need to rush. Take your time and enjoy."

Hiro nodded and then took another deep sip as the man reached into his pocket again and brought out a second small leather bag. Unlacing it, he produced four gold coins and then offered them to the thin boy.

"Keeping yourself hidden, go pay for that bread," he instructed. "And then, go to your sister... it sounds like she's suffering quite a lot."

Slowly, Hiro took the money and then stared at the man for a moment. "I don't understand… I thought you were going to kill me? Why… why are you helping me?"

The man laughed. "Many wouldn't question such things," he replied. "But in these times… I suppose you could be forgiven."

Standing up, he stretched and rotated his shoulders before looking back toward the boy. "I'll tell you why – I'm a man of many a fault, but it is your good fortune that, despite all of that, I happen to be quite the softy, and your story moved me." He snorted as a breeze breathed into the alley, distracting him for a moment as he turned his gaze upwards. He lingered there for a few moments, before seeming to regain himself. "Sorry, my attention was somewhere else. Anyway, this is what you're going to do. You're going to go to your sister and once you have her, pack all your belongings and go to the stables east of the city. When you're there, I want you to ask for a large gentleman named Barox – tell him a masked man has sent you and he'll take you to Yuila – he will not charge you for this. Once you are in the port town, he'll introduce you to a friend of mine, named Kim. Mention me again and your life will be better. Understand?"

Hiro nodded slowly, still feeling shocked as he tried to make sense of everything that was happening. Minutes ago he was facing death... now... he was being helped. It just seemed so unreal.

The man pulled out the small instrument from his pocket. "If you understand, then go. Remember, masked-man, or arrogant man if you'd prefer that."

The boy rose, and then paused. "What's your name?" he asked suddenly.

"Why do you want to know?"

"My sister…" Hiro began weakly. "I can't say a masked-man… the guards killed our parents…" he trailed off and then, squeezing his eyes shut, cried out, "People need names! It makes us human!" He wasn't quite sure why he had said that, and in the moment of silence that followed he found himself regretting saying it. Though he couldn't see his face, the orphan could sense the man's amusement. Hiro's feet shuffled nervously as he felt embarrassment seep onto his cheeks.

"Names make us human, hmm?" the masked-man said into the silence. "For one who has clearly seen a lot of tragedy, you're extremely naive. I don't like naivety, it causes problems and makes people do stupid things for the wrong reasons… such as Parrakka..." Through the eyehole in the mask, Hiro saw the man's eye narrow as he said the name. "I hate Parrakka; stupid, stupid people..." the man growled. "But, that's irrelevant. If it eases your mind, my name is Fawks." He bowed. "And now, I must bid you good day."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

The streets of New Tusami City were every bit the unpleasant nightmare to navigate as he imagined. A thick blend of traders, farmers, pickpockets, consumers and everything in-between; all classes gathering together for another day of self-indulgence, frivolous spending and social survival.

Dodging a large ox-driven cart, Fawks stared at the huge open market. Vendors' calls were mixed with the loud chatter of customers; the air was intermingled with the scents of grilled and raw meats, herbs, and spiced foods, and aromas of exotic perfumes and incense. An oasis of colours dotted and swarmed around the huge hexagon shape of the market; the clothes, merchant wears and produces, stalls and different animals creating a painter's dream.

Finding his usual spot, Fawks removed his hat and set it down by his feet while reaching into his pockets.

He paused, feeling a present, though faint, jolt prickle the hair on his neck.

Lifting his concealed face, he looked to the tall buildings that reared up and surrounded him. It was impressive how much the city had recovered from the attack of the Deepwater monsters, not that he had any idea of what it had looked like before. Despite the somewhat chaotic nature of the structures, crawling steadily upwards to reach out towards the bright sky, the architecture displayed a clear refinery. Many of the buildings were a beautiful blend of Dominion and Kirin design, constructed by materials from both worlds. Smooth arches and curves merged with the iron and stone, creating a strange paradox of confused order. Lining the brown, black, grey and red walls were knotted mazes of steam pipes that stretched across the gaps, connecting the buildings with a iron network.

When he'd first arrived to the city, the busker had been surprised to learn that the city was built on levels that were set in the side of the mountain. Each level was separated by walls that helped divide the city into what was known as the rings. The barracks was at the bottom, with its guards and training grounds, interrogating those who wished to enter the city, as well as being a continual visual present for the residents of the citadel. On the next level was the state housing and slums for those economically challenged. It was also where the common entrance to city's vast sewer system. Then there was the market place that he was currently in. Set on the middle ring it served as a platform to link the seemingly unrelated classes of people; apparently it was humbling for those of a more affluent lifestyle to mingle with those who weren't. So went the cycle, basic as it was.

At the very top, high above the bustling city rose 'The White Tower'. Despite the disgust he felt for it, Fawks had to concede its beauty, though he did so grudgingly. The building was sleek, elegant, and so rich in its meticulous detail and structural consideration that even the most jaded architects would weep with joy. It had been constructed with love and patience. Yet, its very existence was one of bitter irony.

It had been created under the idea of being a symbol of Parrakka's victory against Macaan, yet, as he looked at it, all the musician saw was a monument to the rebel group's arrogance, incompetents, and utter failure. He allowed a moment to indulge a satisfied smirk as he remembered what the tower had recently weathered.

Yes, a tower that had been built as a tribute to Macaan's downfall and death, a tower which shared the same architectural designs and building materials as Fane Aracq; the palace, where Macaan's daughter, Aurin, had ruled. Now the ruling members of Parrakka's precious republic government sat in that tower, discussing weighty issues, deciding the lives of people in much the way Macaan had. People who had actually very little, or no understanding, of the complexities of government and its great games.

His gaze lingered a moment longer.

Perhaps it was all a twisted joke, with the punch-line being that very symbolism. Repressing his feelings of hatred, Fawks turned his attention back to the living organism that was New Tusami City; only for his eyes to fall on another source of personal ire.

Next to the convoluted structures of perplexing splendour and unity, reared ugly towers of gnarled metal; leering with a single-minded purpose. They were, he thought, surprisingly elaborate in their design. A mishmash of different metal, wrapped with thick, smooth coils coloured a deep black.

From under his mask, Fawks frowned.

How he hated people, they were so incredibly, aggravatingly stupid. So easily led and so very, very easily corrupted. He emitted a sigh. No, that wasn't fair, it wasn't entirely their fault. They were the victims of, what appeared to be, brilliant and ruthlessly coordinated moves, or so it seemed. But that was still a flimsy excuse at best; he knew the other reasons why things were the way they were... and it caused a potent hatred to hiss within him.

He lightly shook his head as he felt the air stir, lightly ruffling his shoulder-length hair. "Yes, it is ironic," he admitted to himself. "You're right… just try not to sound too happy about it."

The air rippled.

Ignoring the curious stares given to him by the locals, Fawks bowed his head, unclipped his mask, and pulling the small ten-holed instrument, brought it to his lips.

* * *

The pakpak thundered across the blue lit plains of Kirin Taq, its rider clinging desperately to the reins with whiten knuckles.

It had been a trap! Idiot!

Anaaca's heart hammered in her chest, her ashen face flushed from the heat that pumped through the artery veins in her neck, her mouth dry as droplets of sweat coated her brow. She knew her agents and the contact were dead. She had seen him – no, seen it. A thing like that couldn't be human.

What she'd seen was a demon, and that fear licked at her heels, crawling up her spine. She knew it was behind her, chasing her, the horror of it driving her on.

The concussion blast tore through the air, slamming into her pakpak's neck. Startled, the Kirin gave a cry as she fell to the wet earth. Rolling away from the headless mount, she swiftly rose and automatically unsheathed her hidden daggers as three, Dominions pakpak riders charged towards her, bringing their weapons to arms.

The first rider bore down on her with a wild swipe at her head. She sidestepped and sprang forward, driving the curved edge into the surprised guard's throat, pulling his body from the mounts' back with the momentum of her leap. Blood splattered her robes as she tore the weapon from his jugular. As they collided with the earth, she rose and threw her second blade into the second guard's unprotected head as he raised his pulse crossbow. The shot rose into the twilight sky as the corpse fell to earth. One left, she thought, running to the dead man and pulling the knife free.

Turning, she locked her gaze with the final guard, who steadied his pakpak, keeping a present distance between himself and her. Mastering her racing heart, Anaaca steadied her breathing and collected the adrenaline surging through her body. Slowly, not daring to break her gaze, she lowered her body to a crouching position, her fingers tightening on the wrapped leather of her daggers' handles. One strike and it would be over.

The scrape of the light, plated armour was barely audible over the pounding of her heart and yet, her blood turned to ice when she heard it. Her limbs began to tremble as an unimaginable fear seeped into her body. The lone guard she'd been facing was shaking. Slowly, she saw him dismount and draw a knife from his belt. His shaking now violent, the man brought the blade to his throat and, with a swift motion, slit it.

Anaaca stared in petrified silence as the body slumped to the floor. She knew why he had taken his life - he'd failed the demon, and the demon would not tolerate failure. The realisation chilled her. She wanted to run, tried desperately to will her muscles to respond to the simple command. But it was as if all independent thought and willpower had left her.

As if directed by that very force, Anaaca turned her head and faced the foreboding figure. In the eclipsed sun, the pearl armour shone with an eerie beauty, swirls of a rich black coiling around breastplate that lay over the black body suit. In the centre was a hideous, gaping mouth, lined with decorated, curved teeth. The demon's long black hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that streamed behind the slow, unhurried footfalls that brought promises of death.

But the true source of her terror came from the mask. Anaaca fell to her knee as her gazed locked with it. She couldn't look away and her violent trembling increased, tears welled and fell freely from her eyes as a cold sweat broke over her face. She could feel a scream swelling in her throat, but couldn't release it. Her grip loosened on her weapons, and they fell, forgotten.

The demon was in front of her now, it's slow, ragged, deathly breathing, echoing in her ears and filled her subconscious with unfathomable dread. The mask continued to stare, but this didn't frighten her now; for under it, through the thin slits on the surface, she beheld the eyes.

She didn't see the blade unsheathe, nor did she feel the single stroke.

But she remembered those eyes, and they continued to watch her as darkness engulfed her mind


	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: You all know the drill! R/R welcome

Chapter 8

* * *

The woman moved closer to him, her elegant hand coming to rest against his chest as she leant forward. Drawing her into his arms, he rested his head against her smooth shoulder, savouring the warmth and closeness that the physical interaction brought. He felt her hands tenderly caress his exposed back, her fingers tracing over the orange spirit stones set there, sending a pleasurable ripple through him.

Slowly her hands began to work their way up before coming to rest against his neck. His own hands moved smoothly up her back, over her own spirit stones, as he deepened their embrace. Lifting his head he looked into her beautiful face. Her lush lips smiled as her eyes drooped close. With the softest of contact their lips met... then she was gone and he stared into a consuming void.

But slowly it faded and a new image began to form.

He was now standing, dressed, in a small glade. Around him exotic flowers rose from the fertile earth, blooming in a dazzling array of colours and patterns. Then within seconds, they withered and died, their dried petals falling to the earth. Then the process began again, creating a never ending cycle of life and death.

Uncertainly, the man began to move forward in to the twisted knot of trees, feeling a sudden desire to leave. No... not to leave-but to escape. As he stepped further into the tree line, the full greens of leaves began to dry, slowly blackening and falling from the branches. The vibrant colours of this dream world began to dull as the shadows and shades grew, slowly devouring the life. Every footfall he made seemed to reverberate in the chambers of his skull, mixing with a straining creak, as if the tree were moving to engulf him.

His courage left him and he ran. His heart pounded in his chest as all around him the world began to perish. The unmistakable stench of death permeated the air, causing him to stumble. The ground beneath him shifted, weaving into a black-stoned path. At the end, he could see the overbearing trees begin to thin. Escape. A rush of adrenaline surged through him as he sprang towards it. Behind him, he could hear the earth breaking, falling into a bottomless abyss. The ground buckled beneath him as he leaped.

The man fell heavily, the impact disorienting him. The trembling had now stopped.

He lay sprawled on dew covered grassed, his nostrils inhaling the full, flagrancy of it. His fingers curled, intertwining with the tuffs as he tried to steady his breathing. Raising his head, he waited for his eyes to shift the blurred surrounding into focus, the sputters and flushes of colours gradually becoming defined. Pulling himself to his knees, his eyes travelled over his new environment. It was another glade. Slowly rising to his feet, he took a few tentative steps, checking the firmness and stability of the earth. Pausing for a moment, he waited, eyes wandering over the drooping branches of the surrounding trees as he tried to gain his bearings. Nothing stirred, not even a subtle sway of leaves. The unease returned, but he suppressed it and moved forward. Where was he? There was something distinct about this glade, it was different from the other, even vaguely familiar, yet his mind drew a blank as he searched for a connection.

As he passed the lower branch of a Tocora tree he saw a circle of blooming flowers, an irresistible collage of colours and shapes. Blues correlated with purple and red, with the lush washes of the vibe green of the stems and leaves. Uncertainly, he stepped towards the exotic collection and then came to an abrupt halt. His mouth turned dry as his heart began to speed up.

Before him, surrounded by flourishing flowers and bedded by the grass, was Calica's body. Nestled by the flora and blossoms, the seer's pale face looked peaceful, almost eerily beautiful. Shakily, he forced himself forward, feeling an overwhelming urge to be next to her.

"Calica..."

There was no response.

"Calica..." he tried again, his voice becoming strained.

Her lips didn't stir, the eyes remained closed and her body lay still.

He took another step before his strength abandoned him. Collapsing to his knees, he buried his head into his hands as a torrent shame flooded him. The secure warmth he felt seemingly moments ago vanished, and a hard coldness entered him, along with nausea. Hot tears pricked the corners of his eyes as his mind and body became crippled by unforgiving emotions. He felt sick; bile welled in his throat, as his body trembled. His fingers clenched around the grass, as he tried to regain control of his senses.

"I'm sorry!" he sobbed. "I'm so, so, sorry..."

A sign of movement and he turned just as a black pool rose from the earth. It began to morph, slowly coiling and forming. It lengthened, the shape becoming slender. Gradually a head emerged and two silver eyes opened and stared at him.

The man's trembling stopped as he stared into the eyes of the great serpent. He could hear his heart thundering within, but he didn't feel any sense of fear, just a constricting guilt and shame. The creature now approached him with a slow, ponderous sliver, its forked tongue lapping the air. Its scaled body wrapped around him – he didn't resist. Then the snake reared up in front of the blond man and parted its lips, the long fangs dripping with amber venom.

Closing his eyes, the man bowed his head and the serpent struck.

* * *

With a jolt Ryushi awoke, wincing as he banged his head against the tavern's wall.

Lightly he rubbed his eyes as he tried to shake the heavy weariness that clung to him.

It had been eight days since he'd left the new lands and returned to the place of his birth. For the five days needed to cross Deepwater, he had relentlessly trained in his cabin, nursing his hatred and anger, fuelling it, allowing it to feed him and renew depleted strength. The only time he broke this routine were his visits to Araciel and even then he'd very rarely engage in any other activities. Many members of Kim's crew left him alone, something he was grateful for, though he was uncertain as to whether the captain had warned his men about his mood.

In fact Kim was the only one that visited him, partly to deliver his meals. For a moment, Ryushi thought back to the first visit Kim had made to him. Closing his eyes, he left the smoke lined tavern, and returned to his cabin room in the ship just as the door opened. The young captain stepped through, smiling lightly as he handed his dinner. He had pulled a chair for himself and had given his condolences, before reminiscing fondly on Calica while Ryushi ate in silence. After some meaningless small talk, he had begun to tentatively ask the odd question about the seer's death and the information regarding her mystery assailant.

"I haven't got too much to go on," Ryushi had admitted when Kim had put the first question to him, "but according to the accounts I've managed to gather, someone from The Dominion had been asking about her."

"Any physical descriptions?" Kim asked.

Ryushi shook his head as he tore a chunk of bread and dipped it into the remaining soup. "They were always robed..." he explained, before taking a large bite.

"I'm surprised anyone would give them information regarding Calica then. I mean if they couldn't see the face..."

Swallowing, Ryushi turned back to him. "I agree... but Koda's always had a more relaxed feel to it... I don't really think they would see the danger..." his sentence trailed off into a sigh. "It would be quite easy," he conceded, though his voice was bitter. "All they would have to do was ask about Wyverns... Quite a few knew who Calica was... what she meant..."

Kim nodded slowly, his eyes filled with a sincere sympathy. Silence descended on the two, as each slipped into their own private thoughts.

So it went on. Each night the young captain would visit him and they would speculate on the possibilities, few as they were. On reflection, Ryushi felt grateful for those visits. They had been one of the lasts things that kept him from the pure embrace of hatred.

Back in the present, Ryushi sighed as the memory faded and another wave of fatigue touched him. Taking the clay mug from the table, he brought it to his lips and sipped the warm ale, hoping that the bitter taste would prove a good remedy for his tiredness. Sadly, it didn't, and another wave swept over him, causing his eyes to close momentarily.

He desperately wanted to sleep, his body felt heavy and his mind was in a haze. But he knew it would be futile to try. Recently, sleep had been out of his reach, and at night he found himself staring into thick darkness as he tossed and turned under his covers.

His eyes opened and he shifted his form on the thin bench. But maybe after tonight, he'd be able to finally find some proper rest. This was the night he was due to meet the contact Kim had provided for him.

It was why he was here in New Tasumi City, in this particular tavern with a rented room for the night. When they had docked in Yulia, Kim had asked if he'd mind staying one more night. The captain had said he'd been waiting for a message to come back to him, one that could help him. Ryushi had agreed and the following morning, after another restless night, his friend had appeared before him and handed him the address of the tavern, along with a time, date and the contact's name.

"I'm sorry I can't be more help to you Ryushi," Kim had said. "But hopefully he'll be some use to you, he's a good man... just a bit rough around the edges. Good luck mate."

Ryushi sipped his drink again and allowed his eyes to roam around the tavern.

Tonight the Spiked Wyvern was playing host to a full house.

The air was stale, mixing with the collected sweat of the other drinkers and the natural humid heat of The Dominion climate. Heavy plumes of pipe smoke intermingled with the unmistakable taste of alcohol. Even with all the windows open, it did very little to relive the sweltering air, and in the furthest corner, where he was seated, Ryushi felt as if he were suffocating. On the positive side, at least it was fairly quiet. The usual hum of background conversation was light, as many of the customers sat watching the musician playing on the small stage.

Seeing a good distraction from his thoughts, among other things, Ryushi watched the performer. The musician's facial features were hidden by his long hair and the shadow cast by his wide brimmed hat. His hands were cupped around a small, metal instrument that he held to his lips. His head moved slowly and meaningfully along the edge. Briefly his hands would flick open as he bent and manipulated the notes, shifting their tone to create the solemn mood.

Closing his eyes, Ryushi listened to the slow tempo, hearing the sad music rise and fall with each drawn and blown note. There was something oddly comforting about it, helping to subdue the writhing guilt that was crawling at his conscience.

He felt each beat of the accompanying ox-skinned drum as it kept the steady tempo and the rhythm. The minutes passed as the melody drifted through the room, the audience watching and listening in silence, their hands gently tapping against their tables to the beat. Slowly it began to fade as the drum receded. A few more seconds then it ended.

The musician gave a deep theatrical bow as the cheers rose; he then inclined his hand to the young boy who'd been playing the drum.

Despite his drained state, Ryushi joined the applause before taking another sip of his drink.

As he set the clay mug down, he noticed a large man with short, jelled-back, black hair regarding him through the smoke filled air, two tables from his own. Seeming to realise that Ryushi had seen him, he rose and slowly approached.

"Ail.. friend," he said warmly, though his speech was drawn. "Ain't seen you around here before, ya new?"

Ryushi groaned inwardly and ran a hand over his face to hide his irritation. He didn't want to talk, but at the same time, the man seemed pleasant enough and there was no real reason to be discourteous; though the man did reek of the alcohol.

"Yeah," he said, as the man took the bench opposite him. "I only arrived a day ago."

"Really?" the man asked. "Ya part of the army, new recruit?"

The remark caught Ryushi by surprise. "No, why do you ask?"

The man lifted his hand and pointed to the sheathed sword that rested beside the blond. "That's yours right?"

Ryushi nodded. "Yeah it is, but I'm not part of the army. As I said, I'm travelling," he explained, though he soon realised he was at a loss as to why he'd brought the sword down in the first place. It had seemed to make sense an hour ago, though what that sense had been was gone from his tried and strained thoughts - comfort perhaps?

"Ah," the man said. "Real shame that, they could use a strong arm like ya." He extended his hand, the oil lamps of the tavern reflecting the moisture on the palm. "But where are me manners?" he asked, with a grin. "My name is Banaki. I'm one of the regulars of the Spiked Wyvern."

"Ry-" Ryushi began and trailed off as an electric tingle ran up the back of his neck, causing the hairs to stand on end. The motion sent a shiver up him, and that was when he spied him. From the corner of his eye, Ryushi caught the gaze of another man, who sat at one of the long tables, watching him with a clear interest. He was slim in build, with black, oiled hair that was tightly drawn to his scalp, in a ponytail that looked extremely painful. On the oval head, rose high cheekbones and dark, slender eyes that were slightly slanted. He was dressed in a long, flowing robe of deep blue that was decorated with skilfully weaved moons and stars.

"Ry?" Banaki asked, pulling Ryushi's mind back. "ya okay?"

"Yeah... I'm... ah, sorry..." Ryushi apologised rubbing his eyes. "I'm really tired. It's been a while since I've had a good night sleep."

Banaki's smile was sympathetic. "I understand... these are hard times for us all. Are they nightmares?"

Ryushi smiled weakly, the memory of his recent nightmare flickering in his mind. "I don't want to talk about it... if you don't mind."

Waving his hand, Banaki leant back. "Of course not, but I wouldn't worry about them. We've all ave em, right? I've had them, over and over... me poor daughter..." He sniffed. "My beautiful little girl..."

Ryushi said nothing said as the large man wiped away his tears with the back of his thick arms. "She was so wonderfully you know, real lady like..." Banaki reached for his mug and took another gulp. "But you know what I comfort myself with?" he asked, his voice heavy with the weight of his drink.

"What's that?" Ryushi asked.

Banaki sniffed and wiped his hand along his mouth."This Bloody war!" he said. "We'll get them! Mark my words! And when we do, my little girl can rest..." He wiped away another tear, before taking his mug in hand again.

As the word left the man's mouth Ryushi felt a sudden spark of interest. "War?" he repeated.

The large man turned to him, his eyes glazed. "Huh?"

"You just mentioned a war?" Ryushi said. "Or did I mishear you?"

Banaki's brows furrowed as an obvious confusion entered his eyes. "Yeah..." he began, only to stop and take another long sip of his drink. "Yeah, you know, against those ashen skin savages and backstabbers."

Ryushi leant forward his eyes locked with the large man, all feelings of sleepiness now gone. "You're not referring to the Kirins, are you?"

Banaki gave him a disgusted look, unable to see the looming danger in his drunken state. "Course I am!" he bellowed, taking another sip. "Bunch of rapists and blood drinkers that lot! Ya know they used to be over ere taking our woman and whatnot, then they had the bloody gall to try and kill us!" His eyes suddenly sharpened. "Ere! Ya ain't a sympathiser are ya? Cos if ya are!"

"Oh, Banaki!" A melodic voice chimed in. "Please calm yourself; Is this really the correct way to introduce yourself to a new guest in our beautiful city, not to mention my tavern?"

Ryushi looked up. The slender man he'd noticed earlier had moved silently to where they were seated and now stood beside the larger man.

"Oriyama," Banaki recognised, forgetting about Ryushi, "didn't know you were here."

"Indeed?" he smiled. "I'm due to play a little later. I must confess a little hurt that you didn't notice me." He stretched his arms, displaying his beautiful robes. "I make it a point to stand out." As he turned his head, Ryushi caught the edge of his slender eyes.

He felt a sudden prick in the back of his mind, as if someone had just poked him. "Please be silent and do not interfere." a voice whispered.

Ryushi blinked in surprise and was about to reply, but Oriyama smoothly cut him off.

"Now, Banaki," he said softly. "What appears to be the problem?"

The large man turned his head back to Ryushi. "We haz a sympathizer to those sub 'umans."

Ryushi felt his hands tighten into fists, but he remained calm. He was acutely aware that he was drawing quite a few curious gazes, a point that Oriyama seemed to pick up on. Neatly smoothing a slight crease in his robes, he folded his hands together.

"Interesting," he said, "are you sure you didn't misunderstand?"

"Ow could I miss understand what he sayz?" Banaki asked, still staring with disgust at the man seated opposite him. "It waz pretty obvious what hez meant."

"Indeed?" Oriyama soothed, his voice gaining a more suggestive tone. "Are you sure you didn't miss read the situation?"

That was when Ryushi began to notice a subtle change in the large man. His brows were furrowed and his broad forehead was creased. "I may haz..." he said slowly, his voice showing clear uncertainty.

"I think that is the most likely case." The other agreed. "However, he clearly sparked something out of you." He gently patted the large man's thick shoulders. "Banaki, allow me to deal with this, my dear fellow?"

"Why can't I?" Banaki demanded.

Saying nothing, Oriyama eyed the fat, clay mug in front of him with a polite smile. Banaki seemed to get the hint. "Ah... well... I'm sorry... I'll let you deal with em." He rose, eyeing Ryushi with clear distrust. Ryushi didn't flinch and stared him back, trying to keep his own temper in check, the spirit stones on his back warming. Finally Banaki grunted and lumbered away. When he was a good distance away, Oriyama moved into the vacant sit.

"Well, that was interesting," he said folding his hands together and resting them on the table.

"Yeah," Ryushi agreed. "How did you do that?"

Oriyama's eyebrows rose ever so slightly. "You have a sharp eye, Ry." He learnt forward. "Or should I call you Ryushi?"

Ryushi held the man's gaze. "Are you my contact?" he asked.

Oriyama smiled. "You're very forward, perhaps it is because of your… current state." he noted with evident amusement. As if on cue, Ryushi felt his forgotten tiredness sweep over him. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, "Sorry... I've… not been sleeping well."

"I can see," the slender man said gently. "Do not dwell on it, but" He leant forward, "be wary of your words," he whispered. "Times have changed."

"Changed?" Ryushi repeated, curiosity momentarily replacing his fatigue again. "What do you mean?" then Banaki's remarks returned to his attention. "What was all that about?" he found himself asking. "Why did he say those things about the Kirins?"

Even as he asked the question Ryushi could see the sadness enter Oriyama's face. "Ah... so you've returned for another reason." He smiled. "I suppose I owe Fawks some money..." he inhaled deeply, his eyes closing. Ryushi watched him in silence. He knew that Oriyama was waiting for the attention that had been drawn to their table to subside.

Casually, but with caution, Ryushi took his mug and sipped at it, his gaze drifting to the surrounding tables. Many of the other customers seemed to be occupied with their own affairs and talked among themselves, showing no interest in him. However, he also noticed there were some who were lightly tapping their temples and blinking as if they were trying to remember something. Then they shrugged to themselves before returning to their own drinks. Setting his ale down Ryushi waited for Oriyama.

The slender man opened his eyes and offered a faint smile. "Times have changed Ryushi... things have changed. If you hear any racist or derogatory terms used, please just smile and nod."

Ryushi blinked. "Why?"

"Because we're at war with the Kirins... or rather we're massacring the Kirins."

Ryushi stared at him.

"You're what?" he repeated slowly, his mind fumbling to grasp what he'd just heard.

"It's too long, complicated and dangerous for me to explain to you," Oriyama whispered, his hand reaching into his robe sleeve. Slowly he produced a small piece of bound paper and casually placed it beside Ryushi's mug. "But Fawks will," he promised. He rose, but then paused, his eyes on the sword.

"Another word of advice to you," he said. "In this age, carrying something like that is a good way of gaining unwanted attention." He pulled a tanned-leather, golden strung, money bag from his robe. "In these times, this is the new sword."

"I'll keep that in mind" Ryushi said slowly.

Oriyama held his eyes for a heart beat more before giving a respectful bow.

Ryushi watched him leave and then, trying to be as inconspicuous as he could, he took the small piece of paper and unbound it. On it was a simple note.

"Your room, 3 hours."

Pocketing the paper, Ryushi drew his drink to his lips and watched as the musician began to play another song.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

* * *

He leant closer, his lips brushing along the length of her slender neck, his teeth gently sinking into the naked skin. Her sharp gasp brought a wonderful, intoxication that swept into his mind, causing his eyes to slide shut with pleasure.

His arms wrapped around her as she drew him deeper into her embrace, her strong voice whispering to him. He felt a small smile flicker as he brushed his lips against hers. Her hands cupped his cheeks as she gently rested her forehead against his.

He opened his eyes... and he looked directly into Calica's.

He froze, his heart reverberating in his chest.

The seer's olive green eyes stared at him with a mixture of disbelief, betrayal, and pain. His voice formed into a lump in his throats as tears welled and ran down her cheeks, her fragile heart shuttering under his desire.

Ryushi woke abruptly, his pulse racing as beads of sweat coated his muscular body, damping the light sheets of his bed. His head fell into his hands as he tried to slow and steady his breathing. He could feel the gentle warmth of the stones in his spines as they stirred with his emotions.

"Bad dream?"

He turned sharply, his hand raised and glowing with his spirit's stones power. There, seated on one of the vacant wooden chairs, was the musician he'd seen performing downstairs.

He was dressed in a light black shirt and trousers, his long duster coat slung lazily over the chair's rest, along with the hat. His face was hidden behind a mask that caused his lyrical voice to be slightly muffled.

"It sounded like a good dream to begin with," the masked man went on, breaking Ryushi's quick observation. "Mind telling me what it was about? When a man releases a moan and a gasp like that in his sleep, it's usually means his dreams are being very accommodating to him."

Ryushi could feel the heat spreading rapidly on his cheeks; a spectacle that caused the masked man to laugh.

"I wouldn't worry about it," he said evenly. "You're young, male and human; nothing wrong with listening to urges that are a core part of our makeup, right? Beside you should hear women!"

He shook his head as if he was trying to forget a rediscovered memory.

"Never doubt a strong woman's libido, but I digress." He rose from the chair and stepped towards Ryushi.

"I'm Fawks," he introduced, bowing dramatically. "Now, would you be so kind as to tell me why you're here? I take it from that scene that nearly played in the tavern tonight, you're not here because of the... delicate political climate."

"What do you mean?" Ryushi asked. "Hasn't Kim told you the reason I'm here?"

Fawks stretched his arms. "I'm afraid Kim was rather vague with his details..." He shrugged, "Oh well, I'm sure it's of no great importance, and frankly I don't know you well enough to actually care. Kim asked me to help you; so I will."

Ryushi gave him a wry smile. "How do you plan to help then?" he asked, his voice adopting a coat of sarcasm.

"Oh dear, I seemed to have annoyed you." Fawks commented absently, turning his head to ceiling. "Well, believe it or not; I'm not the one you need to see. However, I can, and will, take you to the one you need to see about... Calica's death."

Ryushi's was on his feet in a second, the power from his stone flaring into his fists. "I thought you said Kim was 'vague with the details'."

"He was" Fawks said, moving back to the chair and kicking his feet up onto the table's top. "I figured it out. If you sit down, I'll explain how – it actually wasn't that difficult." He turned his head to face Ryushi, his only visible eye clearly bored. "I said sit down!"

"I heard you," Ryushi replied, hands still clenched. "Tell me how you know about Calica!"

"You have quite the temper," Fawks observed. "I suggest you do something about it, before you wind up dead!" He waved a dismissive hand. "I'm not stupid, Ryushi. If I were, I would have found myself on the wrong end of the people's guillotine, or dangling from a gallows pole, or..." the eye reflected a cold amusement. "Or I would have been a member of your doomed and foolhardy Parrakka." There was an unmistakable smugness to his voice as he stated this last sentence.

Ryushi felt his anger stir, his stone surged again causing the shimmer that surrounded his fists to brighten. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, aren't we touchy? Don't worry you'll know soon enough. Besides a bit of mystery is a grand thing," Fawks replied drawing a flask from his pocket. "Want some? It's a basic red, but quite nice, though a little overly sharp. If I'm honest, I would kill for a sweet red or a decent bit of port. But these are very hard time, specially for a humble busker."

Ryushi ignored the gesture. "I'll pass, thanks," he said moving back to the edge of his bed.

"So much for my peace offering," Fawks remarked, pocketing the flask. "I suppose you're wondering why I thought Calica was dead?"

"Yeah," Ryushi said softly, his eyes turning intently on the man before him. "That's one of things I'm thinking."

Fawks regarded him with a lazy silence before chuckling. "What have I said about that temper? I'm not the one that killed her. The reason I thought, and guessed, she was dead, was because it made the most sense."

Curiosity superseded Ryushi's anger. "Why?"

"Because she's not the only one," came the matter-of-factly reply. "Many other former members have been killed. Furthermore, Calica was a very well known and respected member of your group; believe she was even a leader at one point, or something to that extend. Anyway, it makes sense that they would hunt her down, rather than run the risk of her returning and causing possible problems." He paused. "The bit that puzzles me, is why are you still alive?"

Ryushi remained silent as a new wave of shame swept over him.

"I wouldn't feel guilty about it," Fawks advised, sounding, for the first time, almost kindly. Ryushi's head sunk into his hands, as tiredness coiled around him.

"You've hinted others are dead..." he began, desperate for a distraction. "Who?"

Fawks sighed. "There are quite a few names... But I'll try to think of the ones you'll probably know the most... Creil?"

Ryushi shook his head, the name striking no chords with him.

"Okay, how about... Baki? Wasn't he once on the council?"

Ryushi nodded. "I think so, but I never knew him."

"Ah... Tara..." Fawks paused for a moment, before shaking his head. "This isn't going to get us anywhere. Give me some names and I'll tell you what I know. "

Ryushi closed his eyes, trying to force his brain to think. Gradually two faces began to form; a grinning boy with green hair and markings on his cheeks, next to him was a large man, completely bold, save for his pony tail and his thick drooping moustache. "Gerdi and Hochi?" he asked.

"Ah, interesting case those two. I don't know, last I heard they were missing and uncounted for; which could be either a good or bad thing. They were in the north, if memory serves, before the revolution began..." he shrugged. "I don't know the rest – ah, hold on-" he shifted his form on the chair, before relaxing again. "That's better. Now, let's see, Anaaca was killed recently, couple of days ago I believe. Hmm... Jikkio was killed in the Scarred Back Canyon; gunned down, according to my sources."

Ryushi looked up suddenly, "Kia!" he exclaimed. "What about my sister?"

Fawks stroked the edge of his mask. "I was wondering when you were going to bring her up. I've heard no news regarding your sister... so I assume she is still in the south with those nomads."

Ryushi closed his eyes as a wave of relief swept over him. "Do you think she'll be safe."

"Hard to say..." the masked man admitted. "I would wager yes, for the moment at least." Crossing his arms he returned his gaze to the ceiling. "Is there anyone else?"

Ryushi closed his eyes and cast his mind back, familiar faces of friends and allies emerging with their names. "Elani, Peliqua and..."

"Yes?"

The swordsman opened his eyes. "Li'ain," he said.

The masked man turned and studied him for a moment, before tipping his head back towards the ceiling. "Peliqua... I haven't heard that name before... But I going to assume she's a Kirin?"

"Yes."

"I'm afraid I've got no information regarding her. Could be dead or alive, I really don't know. Li'ain? That's another name I've never heard before... as for Elani... I'm going to assume you're referring to the historian, right? The one who wrote that delightfully bias and misinformed book?"

"Yeah," Ryushi confirmed as the Resonant's bright eyes and cheery face flickered briefly in his mind, that image superseding Fawks' snide remark.

Fawks shrugged. "Truth be told, I'm not sure about her either. But I'll gamble a guess and say she's alive."

"Why do you say that?" Ryushi asked.

"Because there's a huge reward for her capture; dead or alive." He paused. "Truth be told I've consider hunting her for that reward – joking," he added as Ryushi's hand rose, his power shimmering in his palm.

Uncrossing his arms, Fawks narrowed his only visible eye. "You know, you really should take heed of my advice? But, perhaps you've forgotten. So here it is again, free of charge, control your temper! You'll people find aren't quite as understanding as my wonderful self!"

Ryushi lingered for a moment, then, with a sigh, he lowered his hand. "I'm sorry, I'm just tense... and this is so much to try and understand. I mean, what you're telling me, is just..." He shook his head. "How do I know you're even telling the truth? I've just your word to go on!"

"What about Oriyama?" Fawks questioned. "If you do want proof, consider your beloved Calica's death. Furthermore I would have thought the incident downstairs would be indication that things are different."

He chuckled, and though he couldn't see it, Ryushi had the impression that the musician was smiling.

"You know what?" Fawks asked. "I rather I like this. Here you are questioning me... rather than blindly believing or following..." Shifting his body, he returned his feet to the floor. "That is a rare quality; perhaps I'm under estimating you. To be honest, I can sympathise with you entirely on that point," he said smoothly. "Too many people are quick to believe – but, keep in mind, there are dangers to questioning everything as well, just bare that in mind. Like everything in life, there is a balance to be had!"

He rose from his chair and began to pace the room.

"I suspect Oriyama has already hinted to the current problems," he asked, as he stopped to inspect one of the small wardrobes.

Ryushi nodded, remembering the confrontation with Banaki and Oriyama's words. "He said something about massacring the Kirins."

Fawks tisked. "Typical; overly dramatic as always... well, maybe not entirely... if the stories of Kikita and Taike are true, and given kind of man Goras is..."

"Goras?" Ryushi asked.

Fawks waved a dismissive hand. "I wouldn't worry about him just yet. He's the least of our concerns." He sighed and turned to the bed. "Listen, I know you have a lot of questions Ryushi, but trust me, a lot has happened over these last two years, more so then seem possible."

"I'm willing to listen," Ryushi said.

"No you're not," Fawks replied, lightly rotating his shoulders. "You're angry and you want to lash out. I'm guessing that's because of the tiredness... or is there another reason?"

Ryushi remained silent, causing to Fawks to shrug.

"Suit yourself. As I said before, I don't know you well enough to care. Anyway, we'll leave tomorrow, I've got a couple of things I need to show you before I take you to the rendezvous to meet your real contact. Hopefully, I'll be able to show you that I'm not deceiving you... though I'm pretty sure you're going to wish I was."

Gathering his coat and hat he moved to the door. "I'll come and collect you in the morning." He lingered for a moment. "One more thing, allow me to welcome you to this broken age."

Ryushi only vaguely registered him leaving. He sat in complete silence, his head swamped with a deluge of thoughts. Was there a reason as to why Calica had been killed? Was his sister safe? And what about Gerdi and Hochi, where were they? He ran a hand through his thick hair. Jikkio was dead, so was Anaaca. Peliqua and Elani, were they okay? His eyes closed as the final face emerged in his mind.

What about Li'ain?

He fell back against the quilts and thick blankets as his body and mind were consumed by exhaustion. Rolling to the side he slowly slipped away.

* * *

He felt a soft throaty groan escape him as her lips gently brushed against his. He knew he was dreaming again, and there was an unsettling familiarity to it.

They had started over a year ago and he'd often wake from them with his heart pounding in his chest, his body coated with perspiration. At first he had tried to dismiss them, tried to change them... but every night they slipped into his mind and softly caressed him. Sometime they weren't dreams, just vivid memories.

Once they woke him, he'd lay there cursing himself, then silently he'd leave his bed, heading outside to try and clear his mind. He'd walk for bit in the forest, before finding himself treading a familiar path on the steep cliff that led to the sandy beach, close to where the Stud had been built. Once there, he would climb the rock and for hours just stare across the sea, watching the waves lap rhythmically against the rocks. His thoughts would drift further... back to The Dominion... back to her...

He knew what these dreams meant... and he hated himself for it.

Her kiss broke his thoughts and slowly he drew her closer as her slender arms encircled his neck. He felt a deep sense of shame as she learnt forward and gently pressed her lips to his, the contact awakening a flood of emotions within him; need, desire, passion and a furious excitement. Yet they were always tinted with deep guilt and moral disgrace. As they parted, their foreheads gently came to rest against each other, a tenderly warm blush peppering her pale cheeks. She smiled and Ryushi felt his eyes close as the remnants of his remorse subsided and were replaced by a pure, selfish contentment.


	11. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own the right to Broken Sky (But I how I wish I did...). This is merely the work of a mad fan. Hope you enjoy this new chapter, all comments are welcomes. See you next time.

Chapter 5

Li'ain woke.

For awhile she lay curled on the bed as the last fragments of the dream lingered in her mind. Her graceful eyes closed; her beating heart slowing as the familiar yearning swept through her. That had been extraordinarily intense.

As if spurred by the thought, she felt her fingers slowly trace the rim of her lips as his face briefly flickered. She could feel the heat rising on her cheeks, a powerful flutter in her stomach and… a warmth in her loins.

Quelling the sudden surge of emotions and desire, she rose from the bed and grabbed her travelling cloak from where it lay casted over the back of small wooden chair. Throwing it over her slender shoulders she left the room and moved through the dark hallway, making sure her footfalls were measured and silent so as to not disturb Zin-lin and his family.

Outside, the air was smooth and crisp, helping to relax the former princess as she stepped onto the small balcony. Coming to the chest-high, wrought-stone rail, she rested her arms against the edge as her gaze drifted across the blue fields. In the twilight she could see the lights of Kitika shimmering faintly with a hazy, yellowish glow, almost like a distant mirage. For awhile she allowed her tired eyes to continue to roam over the violet plains, noticing the various shades and tones in the limited plant life.

She'd actually forgotten how eerily beautiful the landscape of Kirin Taq was. It was something she'd never really appreciated when she had been its ruler.

No, for Aurin, Kirin Taq had been a land with little value, thrust upon her by a foolish father, who deluded himself into believing it would win her love and affection. But since returning to this world she'd began to notice these seemingly trivial, though obvious, details. In a way, it possessed an unreal quality that was almost dream like, especially when compared to the hot and often arid climate of the Dominions.

She exhaled and closed her eyes as a wave of sudden exhaustion embraced her.

Lightly gripping the rail, she steadied her balance and tried to compose her mind.

She knew she needed to sleep and, if she was honest, she desperately wanted to sleep. But lately she found that natural cycle to be nearly unattainable, to the point that all she was able to manage were light doses. But they were always interrupted...

Her thoughts lapsed into a moment of brief silence. How long had that dream lasted for? How long had she's rested for? Opening her eyes, she looked towards the dimly lit sky. She knew it would be impossible to accurately tell. Time was measured differently here. In The Dominions, they'd use dials and the sun's position in the sky or, if it were night, the moon's. However, the eclipsed sun of Kirin Taq seemed to always be suspended in the same position as if frozen there, never rising, never setting.

In the back of her mind, she vaguely recalled a legend she'd once been told by one of her nannies, not that Li'ain could remember the detail, nor did she really care.

Besides, back then she would have had no problem telling the time. Her body had been in-tuned with the invisible clock of her realm. She had instinctual known every semi cycle when it came and when a full cycle (one day by Dominions time) had passed.

Having been away for so long, that had all changed…

Change, again her thoughts returned to that word and she allowed herself to reflect on its meaning as she remembered the dreams. It was now the fourth time they had come and they were growing with an alarming strength. While it was true she'd had such dreams before, these ones were significantly different. They were far more vivid in their detail, particularly the one she'd just experienced... it had almost been as if...

She shook her head and inhaled the soothing air deeply, trying to empty her mind and compose herself. They were just dreams of desire, her subconscious weaving new realities for her to draw a simple comfort in. It was no different to when she'd been back in Fane Aracq when she'd been the ruler of Kirin Taq. Her dreams had taken on such dimensions... no, she was trying to look for a simple solution to a complex problem. There was something else. It sometimes seemed as if she were being told something or shown something... and no matter what, it was always him... always Ryushi.

For the arrogant, prideful part of her being, the part that was still princess Aurin, it was a loathsome idea. It was galling that he still processed such a large influence over her. She wanted to be over him, she wanted her feelings to move on. Yearning for him in such ways, seemed weak; it felt beneath her, it was beneath her… and yet she couldn't deny she still cared for him, still thought of him, and even, in the deepest, darkest and the most private of thoughts, lusted for him.

Despite her better judgement, she allowed herself to submerge deeper into her thoughts. Maybe she desired him so much, because she could never have him? It was one of the bitterest lessons she'd ever learnt. There had been a time when she'd had everything and could take everything; her own father had even enslaved the Keriags for her. Beautiful dresses and robes, made from the finest silks, velvets and cottons had been hers. Diamonds, gems, pearl and other such vain jewellery had been brought on her every ridiculous whim. She'd had luxury that few would ever experience. Everything had been hers... except him.

Ryushi... he had eluded her. Somehow that seer had won his heart... or seemed to have won. She watched in silence as a gentle breeze swept through the field below, causing the grass and spots of crystalline flowers to sway almost dreamily. She sighed as she felt a tightness coil around her heart. No, she scolded herself, she was trying to look for a simple answer again, moreover she was trying to shift blame and shirk responsibly. She knew there had been every chance that he could have been hers. She'd made the decision to leave. Her pride and arrogance her cost her someone she genuinely cared deeply about.

Her relationship with the Parrakkain swordsman, the youngest son of the group founder, was more complicated than she'd perhaps care for. Maybe she was demanding too much of herself. After all everything had changed the second they'd met, the war, the future of the worlds and her life.

He had absolutely fascinated her; with his cheek, his bravado, and his convictions. He had challenged her, had taunted her, had teased her, and had even excited her. While everyone else around her indulged every one of her impulses through a mixture of fear and self preservation, Ryushi had treated her like a human… with both honest contempt and honest affection. While it was true she'd had Corm and Tatterdemalion... she could have never really considered them friends in the truest sense of the word. They had been servants and advisors, beloved and valued, but servants and advisors none the less.

No, as Aurin, she'd been completed isolated and over time she'd grown more and more bitter, hate filled, resentful and cold. But, she'd always hid it well and continued to masquerade in the great deception that was her life... until she'd met Ryushi.

In the time they'd been together, he'd been her enemy, her friend, her lover and even her liberator. The role he'd played in her life had been far too significant to merely dismiss.

He wasn't like Whist who could be easily cast aside once he'd fulfilled his purpose and use, nor was he like Jedda or even Kia, dear as they were. Ryushi was something wholly unique and precious to her.

Her reflection broke as she felt a light dampness in the corner of eyes and a surge of anger as the yearning swept through her body and mind.

It caused her pride to sneer, caused her conceitedness to hiss, and awoke her fury. But, beyond the black emotions, the woman inside her cried as the combination of loneliness and longing wrapped around her.

No… there no denying how much he still meant to her… and it hurt she'd never see him again. It hurt… because she inflicted this on herself….

The anger she felt gradually subsided and sighing, she finally dismissed the painful thoughts. She allowed a few heartbeats to pass her by, before she summoned her attention to the other issue that had been weighing heavily on her.

Though she wasn't precisely sure, she'd guessed that it had been anywhere between two to three cycles since she'd helped Zi-lin and taken his offer for her to be his guest. She was still trying to get over the shock of what she'd learnt. It all still seemed so unbelievable. Yet the proof was in front of her.

She had remained with Zi-lin and his family, trying to gather more information regarding the collapse of her former kingdom and The Dominion's government. It was a task she'd found to be particularly difficult and she'd often found herself wishing Corm and Tatterdemalion were here to help her, as they had when'd they'd located Kia in the mines. Still, even without their assistance, she had managed. And it appeared that everything Zin-lin had told her was true, the assassination of the political leader Rayin, the backlash, and the starting point for the following events, with the most interesting twist being 'Krimpa'.

The ultimate question was how had it all been done, provided it was all part of ingenious plan? There began the frustrating cycle she'd found herself in. For every question she solved, or thought she'd solved, another one emerged. There was little doubt in her mind, that the events had, to some degree, been orchestrated. There was far too much coincidence for her to believe that it had been a simple case of fate, far too many factors. It wasn't so much a case of finding a motivation either; there were various options to pick from. Greed, personal grudges, prejudice, pride, corruption... there would always be a reason that someone would use to justify their cruel actions... in much the way she had, she realised soberly.

Quickly dismissing the unpleasant emotions that came with the memory, she returned her thoughts to their previous cycle.

Since the incident in the market place, she'd been keeping her profile low. Though she had made journeys back into Kitika to learn more, she had always done so with the upmost care, making sure she wasn't seen, but able to hear titbit of information, though never enough to satisfy the numerous questions. She also made a point of steering clear of any and all the guard patrols.

She indulged a reflective smile. Yes, Whist's lessons certainly had their uses, as had he. Gathering information was easier with him around; he had a gift for inserting himself into any environment and gaining crucial knowledge, with nobody ever questioning or suspecting him. A useful talent; and it was something she wished she could access now. There was much she still wanted to know, needed to know, in regards to Aurin.

"Many atonements must be made before this age is done." Da'al Jakai words rose, unbidden in her mind.

Li'ain swore softly, feeling lightheaded with a mixture of fatigue and frustration.

Why were the healer's words still bothering her? Hadn't she'd done her part in the war? Hadn't she helped kill her own father? Her eyes closed as she exhaled, allowing the emotions to depart. What was wrong with her? Why had she felt such guilt when she'd discovered she was in Kitika? Why did she feel any such guilt? There was nothing she could do. The past was the past and there was nothing that could change it. It wasn't as if she could clap her hands and resurrect the dead, or any other such nonsense.

Realising these new thoughts were going nowhere, she banished them and returned to her previous musing.

Despite her sleep-deprived state, Li'ain could see what was happening. If what Zi-lin had said was true, then she, or rather Aurin, was being used as a symbol for the Kirins to rally against the new oppression they were facing. She gave a faint smile, though there was little humour in it.

How tragically ironic, that her name was seeming to carry and inspirer the same hope Parakka's had - Parakka, a rebel group that had been forged to fight her father's tyrannical rule and bring it to an end, the same group that had its political ideology of freedom and equality. Now the roles had almost been completely reversed.

Despite her efforts, she found her thoughts briefly returning to Ryushi. How would he react if he were to learn about 'the fall' as she dubbed it... he'd been so passionate about the group, in fact it was his father who had created it. What about Kia? She'd given so much to that group and had lost so much because of it.

Her gazed lifted to the purple sky, as her thoughts drifted around the Dominion twins that had changed everything. She doubted she'd ever know their reaction and, in all honesty, she hoped they would never know. Again she shook her head lightly, dismissing the current thoughts from her mind and returned to the previous thread.

The part involving herself, or rather her past self, was most intriguing.

If Zin-lin was indeed right, then many of the Kirins took comfort in the strange legends that were circulating about her. It was obvious to the former princess that somebody was creating these stories and using them as means to an end, the question was who and why? Who would gain from having her back on the throne? And why go to such trouble to paint her as such a virtuous creature, considering her dark past?

She sighed and closed her eyes, as she realised what was happening. It was political power games, in their purest form. In her time as ruler of Kirin Taq she had witness such things between the nobles in her palace. Perhaps someone was posing as her in order to gather followers in order to gain absolute power, such thing had occurred before. But that would incredibly dangerous, not to mention stupid. They would a walking target, with many enemies. She felt a soberness enter her. Many enemies...

Regardless of Zin-lin and Tomcha's personal thoughts, she knew many of her former subjects wouldn't share their views on Aurin, and would far rather see her head on the end of a pike. Yet, there was something comforting about Zin-lin and Tomcha's belief. In the recesses of her mind the healer words whispered to her. She inhaled and exhaled, composing herself, allowing the emotions to dissolve.

Perhaps finding redemption wouldn't be such an impossible task. She couldn't change the past of Kirin Taq… but maybe she could save its future.

The sound of footsteps, from behind, caught her attention and dismissing her thoughts she turned. Concealed behind the frame of the door was Morqa, her hand gripping the smooth wood as she cautiously peered around the edge. Her opaque eyes stared at Li'ain in a manner that the former princess found quite unsettling. In truth, she wasn't sure what to make of the young Kirin girl. Morqa spent most of her time trying to avoid Li'ain, though whether it was because she was shy, as Zin-lin had assured her, or for another reason, the former princess couldn't tell. But this wasn't the first time she'd spied the child observing her; perhaps she was finally ready to introduce herself.

She favoured the Kirin with a faint smile, though she wasn't sure why; the Kirin would be unable to see it.

"Hello." She began soothingly, watching the child for any sudden changes.

Morqa remained silent, but slowly she stepped out from the door's frame.

Li'ain waited a few heartbeats, then tried again. "Did you have a nightmare?" she offered.

"I don't like you..."

The former princess blinked, unable to conceal her surprise. It was the first time she'd ever heard the Kirin speak.

"I see." She recovered quickly, her ghostly smile fading as her face became neutral and unreadable. "Well, I suppose I can't help that."

Morqa continue to stare at her, the faint light catching the milky surface of her eyes. "What are you hiding?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me! Who are you? What do you want?"

Li'ain held Morqa's gaze, feeling an odd sensation crawl up the back of her neck as she stared into the pale eyes. Though the Kirin was blind, the former princess had the impression that Morqa was...

"I don't want anything," Li'ain said.

"Liar!"

Li'ain repressed a sigh as she felt a ripple of irritation, followed by a stir of tiredness. She wasn't in the mood for silly games and her patience was beginning to ebb. But it was clear that, whatever the child wanted, she wasn't going to allow the former princess any peace, until she had it.

"Very well," Li'ain pressed, keeping her tone impassive. "Why do you think I'm lying?" she enquired.

Morqa's lips twisted into a cynical smile. "Because you're a dishonest person... and a cruel person" she said, her voice shifting to a tone of clear coldness.

Li'ain closed her eyes and exhaled evenly, commanding her annoyance to subside. "Why am I dishonest person?" she continued, trying to remain as composed and collected as her current state would allow her.

"You know why," the Kirin responded.

"Do I?" Li'ain questioned evenly.

"Yes, you do," Morqa hissed gently. "How many people have you killed now?"

A sudden panic touched Li'ain as she understood the insinuation. Impossible... could the child? No! She couldn't... "You games are boring me!" Li'ain said curtly, feeling her composure begin to strain. "Excuses me,"

She turned to leave.

"I know you really are... Aurin."

Li'ain froze as the word left the Kirin's lips. Quickly, she tried to regain herself, but she soon realised there was little point. Even if it had just been a wild guess, Li'ain knew she'd given too much away with her reaction. The Kirin child seemed to know this as well, because, as Li'ain turned to face her, she gave a smile that neatly encapsulated the sense of victory she was feeling. Li'ain felt the exhaustion sweep over her, along with frustration.

"How did you know?" she asked into the silence that had descended.

"Because you've just told me" Morqa said simply, turning from her and moving to the banister. So it had been a guess... and Li'ain had played right into it.

"You're very devious?" she observed, mentally scolding herself for not seeing the trap.

"I have to be," Morqa explained. "Nobody ever spares a second thought for the blind. I use it to my advantage." She paused thoughtfully. "If it helps... I was able to make the guess when I saw the turmoil on you, when grandfather mentioned Aurin." She turned to the former princess. "I'm not blind," she confessed. "I was born with eyes that make me appear to be blind, but I can see perfectly well. I've been watching you; when you talked to my uncle and my grandfather, I was hiding nearby, listening. I've also listened to you whenever you slept."

She regarded Li'ain for a moment and then a sly smile appeared. "Who's Ryushi?" she asked almost conversationally.

Despite herself, Li'ain turned her head from the child's eyes as she felt the blush spreading on her pale cheeks. She hadn't been aware that she talked in her sleep. "A friend," she said, turning back to the Kirin once she'd mastered herself.

"Sounds like he's more than friend," Morqa commented, before shrugging. "But I guess it's not my business."

For a while Li'ain stood in silence, watching the small Kirin. She felt embarrassed that she'd played into the child's hands and given her such an advantage. And she was also annoyed with herself for being manipulated so easily. Yet, she had a slight respect for Morqa's sharp mind and ability to read emotion. Had the victim been anyone else, she might have even congratulated the Kirin.

"How come you haven't told your grandfather?" Li'ain enquired, causing the Kirin to shrug again.

"I needed to make sure you were who I thought you were..." she trailed off, her brows furrowing as she descended into thoughts. "Why did you help my grandfather?" she asked suddenly.

Li'ain paused. It was a question she herself had reflected on. In truth she wasn't sure why'd she'd stepped in and saved Zin-lin from the guards. It had been an incredibly stupid move, and it was something of a miracle that she managed to escape. No... she hadn't been that careless, there been a certain degree of practicality to her decision. She'd been able to surmise that the guard could be bribed, Whist had taught her how to spot the 'blind guards' when he'd still been of use to her, and with that information she had taken the risk... however, she still found herself amazed that she had. But that wasn't entirely it. Originally she had no intention of stepping in, but as she'd been trying to leave, she had felt a ripple in her mind. It was almost as if an invisible force was nudging her to aid the old Kirin. Perhaps it was just a case of intuition again... and yet...

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "I just did."

Morqa remained silent, her eyes closing as she contemplated Li'ain's answer. "That's not really a good reason... considering who you are."

Li'ain regarded her, feeling a flicker of anger at the backhanded remark. "It is possible for people to change," she pointed out reasonably.

"Perhaps..." Morqa said, though her tone suggested she was unconvinced. "Now answer my other question. Why are you here?"

"To be honest... I don't know," Li'ain admitted. "I've been travelling The Dominion and I felt drawn to Kirin Taq."

"Do you believe that might be a sign?"

Li'ain blinked, the question catching her off guard. "Are you suggestion my returning and meeting your grandfather was more than a coincidence?"

"I don't know," Morqa confessed. "Some believe that the flow can dictate actions and guide us."

"I suppose," Li'ain conceded, remembering the Deliverers and their part in her father's downfall. The Deliverers... now, that was something to contemplate later, but not right now.

She exhaled and gathered her stray and tired thoughts. "I've answered a few of your questions. Now would you be so kind as to return the courtesy?" Realistically, Li'ain knew she had very little leverage in this conversation. Now the Kirin knew who she was, she had a certain degree of power over her... of course there was the option of... she silenced the thought.

"I suppose it's only fair," Morqa said, coming out of her own contemplation. "What do you want to know?"

"Are you working for a group, or some sort rebel movement?" Li'ain crossed her arms. "I assume there is a rebel group?"

"Of course," Morqa said with a shrug. "Wherever there is oppression, there is rebellion; light and shadow." She smiled lightly, perhaps amused by the philosophy. "Anyway, do I help with the relief effort?" she rephrased the question. "Yes, I gather information by posing as a blind and deaf child. I have contacts in both The Dominion and Kirin Taq."

"I see," Li'ain said softly. "Does your uncle or grandfather know?"

The young Kirin gave a contemptuous snort. "My grandfather is far too much of a coward to really do anything about Kirin Taq. He just hopes that the stories of you are true."

"He seemed quite brave when he challenged those guards." Li'ain commented, remembering the incident in the market place.

"Maybe he's getting tired of the rape and murder..." The Kirin sighed. "I do love my grandfather, but he's a fool. Look how easily he trusted you, look how much he told you. Told you about Vinra, told you about stories regarding yourself... what if you'd been a spy planted by The Dominion... we've had them before..." she shook her head as if to forget an unpleasant memory. "He and my uncle are getting careless in their desperation..." She lapsed into silence and turned her head so she faced the blue field.

Li'ain watched the Kirin, feeling a stir of pity towards her. No more than eight winters, and yet, here she was risking her life with her contacts, and formulating plans and tactics that would put most adults to shame. Briefly she found herself remembering the Resonant, Elani...

"So, you've manage to figure out who I am." Li'ain continued, "I assume you want something?" It was a logical chain of thought. Even if Morqa had been groping with the name, she'd found the answer she wanted. It was the fact that the Kirin was lingering and talking to her - telling her value pieces of information, despite her earlier anger at her grandfather for doing the same- was a clear indication that she had something in mind.

"I do..." Morqa said softly. "I want your help"

Li'ain repressed a smile. She'd guessed as much. "And if I refuse?" she questioned, her voice finding just the right level of coldness and arrogance.

Morqa turned to face her, her lips twisting into a wry smile. "You haven't got a choice," she said. "If you don't help, I'll tell everybody, who you are. The Dominion army will arrest you and you'll be paraded as a trophy and then executed. Imagine that neck in a noose... or severed from your shoulders."

The former princess's face remained emotionless. "So you're black mailing me?"

The Kirin responded with an eased shrug. "In essence... yes," she said.

"What makes you think I'll be any use to you?" Li'ain asked.

Morqa sighed. "Don't play stupid," she said. "It really doesn't suit you. You've heard what my grandfather said, you know about the stories of the princess. Even The Dominion army knows the stories." She leant against the railing. "Listen, despite what you may think, a lot of the Kirins would far rather see you back on the throne, then The Dominion's dog. They want their lives back, far more than their freedom..." her sentence trail off as a thoughtful look passed her features. "In actual fact... I don't think anyone really wants freedom, not in the truest sense... they all want security. As long as they have food, peace of mind and a bit of money to pamper themselves, most will be content. Personally, I believe that's the reason Parrakka was doomed to fail..." Morqa exhaled. "As much as I hate to admit it... you've become a beacon and a rallying point for Kirin Taq to fight against this threat. Somebody else must clearly think this... because they've gone above and beyond painting you in new colours."

Again Li'ain felt a touch of surprise. It was a little disconcerting just how much this child had managed to surmise. But there was still more to this puzzle...

"I have one more question, and I wish for you to answer me honestly. Why are you helping with the liberation?" the former princess asked. "Is it because you wish to save your people and land?"

Morqa's face darkened. "No..." she whispered. "I'm doing it for revenge..."

"For your mother's death?" Li'ain pressed, her voice becoming gentle as she remembered what Zin-lin had told her. Yet, somehow, her voice sounded insincere.

"They didn't just kill her..." Morqa sniffed. "Or me..."

The former princess regarded the Kirin for a few seconds, trying to think of something to say.

"I see..." she began.

"No, you don't..." the Kirin spat, with a sudden savagery. "No one ever does, and no one ever can..."

Li'ain felt an uncomfortable stir in her stomach and hard coldness set over her. "I suppose not... I'm sorry... nobody should have to go through something like that..."

"Don't patronise me!" the Kirin sniffed, quickly wiping away premature tears. "I don't care about your pity, it's worthless! I just want your help!"

The former princess remained silent, unsure how to respond. She didn't know what to do, even after all these years, interaction with others was something she found difficult. Her eyes closed as she felt conflicting emotion, swelling within her.

"Aurin..."

Li'ain opened her eyes and looked at the small Kirin. In the dull light of the eclipsed sun, she could see the tears gather in Morqa's eyes. As if suddenly just aware of the former princess's gaze, the Kirin sniffed and ran her arm over her face. "I really don't want to ask this of you..." she began. "But, things are really desperate... I don't see them improving..."

"What do you think I'll be able to do?" Li'ain asked.

The Kirin closed her eyes as her arms wrapped themselves around her. "I don't know..." she confessed. "I really don't know... but there must be something you can do to help..."

The former princess rubbed her arm nervously as she heard the healer's voice again. "I don't think I can help you..." she sighed. "I'm sorry. But, regardless of what your uncle and grandfather think, there is little I could do."

Morqa looked up at her sharply. "You haven't got a choice!" she snapped. "We need you, and you're going to help – you're as much to blame for this mess!" She jabbed at the former princess. "Take some responsibility for your actions!"

Li'ain waited for the Kirin to lower her accusing finger before speaking. "Morqa," she began softly. "I have been very patient with you. But don't you dare threaten me again, or I will kill you." Her eyes hardened causing the Kirin to flinch. But she soon recovered and stared down the cold gaze, her fists tightening.

"I really don't want to threaten you like this," Morqa said, trying to keep her voice even. "But like it or not, you need to take responsibility, we all do!"

Li'ain sighed. "This has nothing to do with me, and I will not be forced against my will!" She looked at the young Kirin, noting her determination. "However, I will consider what you've said."

The Kirin snorted. "I suppose it's the best I can get," she wiped her eyes again. "Take care, Aurin, I suppose it's all you're good at!"

Back in her room Li'ain fell against the bed and closed her eyes, feeling overwhelmed. She was angry, bitterly angry at the young Kirin and her words. This wasn't Li'ain's fault, or even Aurin's fault.

These were circumstances beyond her control. She had helped kill her father, she had saved Kia, among others things. There was nothing more for her to do. Yet, the words of Morqa and Da'la Jakai, played over and over. It was true she had been speculating on saving Kirin Taq, but it had been just that; speculation, a possibility. A course of action, she may or may not take. She had never committed herself.

She sighed as her thoughts drifted back to the Kirin. Though she'd hadn't been directly been told what happened, Li'ain could take an educated guess and very thought turned her stomach. It was hard to believe that something that horrible could even happened, even more so considering how old Morqa was. But such atrocity had happened before, and, unpleasant as it was, they would continue.

It was an unsettling thought.

These disgusting events had forced a child to act beyond her years, and enter a harsh world.  
In the back of her mind, she recalled Elani and way her circumstances had caused her to mature rapidly. She wondered how the Resonant took the collapse of the government she'd worked so hard to build. It must have been heartbreaking, to watch it crumble before her eyes, because of the very people she'd been trying to save. Then again... perhaps she wasn't even alive to mourn. That seemed more merciful...

Li'ain's reflection broke as weariness swept over her, causing her limbs to turn heavy. She reached over for the quilts and drew them over her.

Resentful as she was, she realised she couldn't ignore this. When she'd stepped in to save Zin-lin she had, inadvertently, sealed her fate. There was no walking from it. Though it was galling to admit, Morqa was right, this was as much her fault, as it was anyone else's...

When she'd helped kill her father, she had help Parrakka secure victory, and with its victory, she'd also secured their government systems and political philosophies.

At the memory of Parrakka her thoughts returned to the twins. She knew what they would do. "My word is my bond" she found herself whispering, feeling another painful stir in her heart at the words. This was all too much. Curling her elegant form under the quilts, she drew the pillow closer to her and nestled her head into its soft folds. Dimly she felt her eyes began to droop and slowly she fell into her dream's embrace... into his embrace.


End file.
